


Unshadow

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Artificial Intelligence, Bisexual Clarke Griffin, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Mecha, Multi, Pining Lexa, Post-Season 2 AU, Slow Burn, Technological Singularity, but a somewhat happy ending I promise, drones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:29:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4386620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An attack on Camp Jaha brings Clarke back from her self-imposed exile, thrusting her into the middle of a war between the grounders and a mysterious enemy. This is a multi-chapter au in the canon-verse, set some 4/5 months after the season 2 finale.</p>
<p>Don't be turned off by the first chapter--I can guarantee Clarke/Lexa endgame, but both of them are going to have to work for it, i.e., Clarke is exceedingly stubborn when it comes to Lexa; Lexa is thirsty af but terrible with feelings. Plus there's a pretty big obstacle in their way...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> A few things: I've got this mostly already mapped out, so I don't foresee it taking too long to finish, but it will be a little on the lengthy side to hold me (and hopefully you) over during the hiatus. I was inspired a bit by Jason's comments re what we can expect for season 3, and a lot by fanfic writer OG, Lisalu (points if you know who that is). Apologies for any mistakes--I'm posting this without an editor but will most likely go back and edit/update chapters after posting.
> 
> Again, don't be freaked out by the first chapter, this is a clarke/lexa (eventual) pairing.

“No, no, no…” Clarke sank to her knees, clutching at the ground as she looked down into the mile-long crater marking where Camp Jaha had once stood. She had been on her self-imposed exile, some 30 or 40 miles away, when she had felt more than seen or heard the blast--a bright flash and a rising cloud visible through a canopy of trees told her all she needed to know--and she had sprinted towards the source with a silent prayer repeating like a mantra in her mind: _please be alive please be alive please be alive. ___

__A shadow cast over the girl’s kneeling frame. Jerked out of her mourning, Clarke whipped her head up and spun around, her swollen and red eyes meeting those of a tall, dark, and wholly unfamiliar figure, face surrounded by a hood like a halo. A flash of disappointment crossed her features before she willed them into an impassive mask.__

“Are you Trikru?” The first words she had spoken to another human in the last four months, her voice felt frail and thin, foreign to her own ears. The figure shook his head slowly but made no attempt to speak or move. His eyes were gazing at the remnants of Camp Jaha behind Clarke, and though he did not show any physical sign of distress, Clarke could make out the depth of devastation in them. She turned to follow his gaze, once again taking in the leveled landscape before her, the utter emptiness where her people, her friends, her mother should have been. She wasn’t sure how long they stood, side by side in silence, before the man whispered in hoarse trigedasleng, “ _yu gonplei ste udon_.” 

__Clarke turned towards him. “Do you know what happened here?”_ _

Once again she was met with silence. She stepped a bit closer. 

“Do you know who was behind this?” 

After another long silence the man finally spoke, still not turning to look at Clarke. 

“ _Kikon trikova_ ,” he spat, gritting his teeth, hands clenched at his sides. Clarke furrowed her brows. Her trigedasleng was limited to a handful of words, none of which included those. Apparently sensing her confusion, the man finally turned to face her. 

“Living shadow. The one who commands the moving weapons.” Clarke’s brows furrowed even more. The man sighed. He tried again. 

“The one we are at war with?” 

“Who?” 

“ _Kikon tri_ …” 

“No, I meant who’s ‘we’?” Clarke was looking at him suspiciously now. He was obviously a grounder, but the clothes he wore were a bit different--heavier, fur-lined, and lighter in color than the garb she was used to seeing the Trikru in. The man took a step towards her, and Clarke repressed the urge to back away. He reached up and pulled the hood off his head with two hands. There was a long scar marking his face, beginning above his left eyebrow and trailing vertically down halfway to his jaw. His eye, a piercing light blue, was unmarked by whatever weapon had marred him. 

“You have no knowledge of the war the coalition has been fighting these past weeks?” 

Clarke shook her head and waited for him to continue. Instead, he looked at her quizzically, as if her existence was a puzzle. 

“You are skaikru, yes?” 

“Yes, but I’ve been away from my people for a few months--on my own. I...I left them because I needed some time to myself and now...and now they’re gone.” The realization hit Clarke as she spoke the words, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she dropped her head. _Mom, Bellamy, Raven, Octavia..._ hot tears began to form at the corners of her eyes. 

She felt a warm, calloused hand on her shoulder and rapidly blinked away the tears. 

“I lost my sister in the attack. I came here looking for her but was too late as well.” Clarke looked up into gentle eyes and sniffled, wiping her face with her hand. The feel of human touch, however slight, felt like a welcome anchor after months of being alone. Clarke smiled up at him tentatively, grateful for this stranger’s gentle understanding. 

“I’m Clarke, by the way,” she said, extending her hand. 

“Ronan,” the man replied, grasping her forearm in the grounder fashion. 

“Ronan,” she repeated, testing the name, “do you think there were any survivors?” She gazed out again at the vast expanse of nothing below them. 

“If there were, they would have been taken by now to the nearest village. We arrived half a day after the bomb exploded.” Remembering her long trek through the forest, Clarke suddenly felt exhausted, but the even impossibly slim chance that her mom or friends were alive gave her some resolve. She pushed past Ronan and began walking toward the line of trees. She heard him behind her after a minute or two. 

“Where are you going?” 

“To Tondc. That is the nearest village, is it not?” If Clarke had been facing Ronan, she would have caught the half-smile on his lips.>

__…_ _

They walked toward Tondc with purpose, not speaking much for most of the journey. Clarke questioned Ronan a bit about the war he had mentioned against the “kikon trikova” but his responses were puzzling and contributed more questions than answers. When asked how the war broke out, he simply said that the “moving weapons” had attacked a village in the Mountain Clan’s region to the north without warning a month or so ago. The grounder coalition, experiencing some factioning since the fall of the mountain, had been resolidified to fight a new common threat--but it seemed even they knew little about the enemy they were at war with. The only helpful information she garnered was that her people, the Skaikru, had come to ally themselves with the grounders again, after some of their own were, in Ronan’s words, “taken.” 

“What do you mean ‘taken’?” She had asked, but Ronan merely shrugged his shoulders and repeated the word: “Taken.” So Clarke decided it best to avoid asking him anything else about the war. 

“Your sister...why was she with my people at Camp Jaha?” 

“She volunteered to help prepare the Skaikru for the war.” 

“Why?” Ronan paused briefly before taking his next step. 

“She cared for one of your own. He saved her from the Mountain.” At that Clarke stopped. 

“Bellamy?” Ronan stopped to look at her briefly before continuing on. 

“Yes.” 

Clarke learned that Ronan’s sister’s name was named Echo. They were both Azgeda, or Ice Nation. That explained the thick clothes Ronan wore though it was, by Clarke’s estimation, Spring or even early Summer. As they walked in silence, Clarke stole glances at her companion. He seemed to be of good intentions, and Clarke found herself inexplicably comforted by his stoic presence. 

It was dark by the time they reached the newly-rebuilt Tondc. They were stopped at the entrance by guards carrying torches, but a few quickly spoken words of Trigedasleng by Ronan gained them entrance without much interrogation. Once inside the village, Clarke understood why--the entire village was bustling, dealing with the aftermath of the bombing, gearing up for war, and, Clarke hoped, treating those who survived. No one paid them any attention. Clarke felt a gentle tug at her side and found herself being led by Ronan to a large structure where people were entering and exiting at a constant rate. Clarke quickened her pace and ran past Ronan through the entrance, her eyes scanning the littering of small cots holding badly burned bodies, most of them beyond recognition. She felt a lump in her throat as she stepped further into the healer’s space, trying to make out the faces of the patients--probably 40 in total. 

“Clarke?” She whipped around at the voice and almost ran into the familiar face. 

“Bellamy?” Before he could respond, Bellamy was gathering her in a crushing hug. 

“Clarke! Thank god. I’m so glad to see you.” Clarke felt wetness on her cheeks before she registered she was crying. 

“Me to,” she finally croaked. After disentangling herself from Bellamy’s hug and wiping her eyes she looked around once more. 

“Can you...can you tell me who else made it?” Bellamy’s eyes darkened as he took a deep breath before responding. 

“Octavia, Lincoln, Raven, Monty, and I were here in Tondc when the bomb dropped--we’re all fine.” He took a step closer to Clarke. 

“Follow me.” He led her to the far end of the room, where a group of bodies lay unmoving on their cots, without the hovering presence of healers. Clarke felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Bellamy stopped short in front of one of the beds and Clarke took a deep breath before coming to stand beside him. 

“I’m sorry Clarke--she was too far gone. she died within the first hour.” 

Clarke looked down at her mother’s disfigured body and wept. 

__…_ _

Clarke was not sure how long she knelt by her mother’s body sobbing, but a shout from the other side of the room brought her out of her distress. 

“Clarke! Clarke we need you!” Clarke turned around to find the source--Bellamy. He was standing above a cot next to a kneeling Ronan and a person Clarke assumed was a healer. She made her way over to them in a daze, not quite registering Bellamy’s desperate voice. 

“...please, help her.” Clarke looked down at the figure of a girl with flash burns covering her chest and neck, coughing up blood. She caught Ronan’s pleading gaze and inhaled audibly through her nose before reaching down to feel the girl’s forehead. It was burning. She placed two fingers on the girl’s pulse point and counted. The girl’s heart rate was above 90. 

“She needs antibiotics. She’s septic.” Clarke looked up into Bellamy’s concerned face. 

“Are there any left from the ark?” 

“No, it was all destroyed in the blast.” For perhaps the first time since she had met him, Clarke saw genuine fear in Bellamy’s eyes. She turned to the healer. 

__“A blood transfusion then. I need a hollow needle and a tube…” before she could finish she was cut off by a coughing, ragged voice._ _

“No, it’s too late..for me. _Ain gonplei ste udon_.” Clarke looked down to see Echo staring up at her brother, gripping his hand. 

__“Echo, let her help you,” Ronan pleaded. She responded with words in Trigedasleng Clarke did not understand._ _

__“Bel..amy...” Echo let go of Ronan’s hand and reached for the man Clarke considered her brother in everything but blood. Bellamy kneeled down and took it, tears streaming down his face._ _

__“It is dishonorable to...to cry when a warrior...dies,” Echo said with a forced smile. Bellamy, perhaps in response to complete emotional exhaustion, laughed through his tears. He grasped her hand with both of his now, and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. He whispered something in her ear Clarke couldn’t make out._ _

“ _Ai hod yu in_..” she breathed in response. Clarke didn’t know the exact translation but she didn’t need to in order to know what it meant. She moved to stand next to Ronan who was gazing down at his sister with a blank look. He was in shock. Clarke gently touched his forearm and he turned to her slowly. 

__“She deserves a painless death.” Clarke swallowed at her own words. Ronan simply stared at her before nodding and unsheathing his knife. He bent down and quickly whispered something in Echo’s ear. When she nodded, he didn’t hesitate--slitting her throat with what Clarke shuddered to think was practiced skill._ _

__“No!” Bellamy cried out and lunged for the knife too late. He pressed his hands on the wound futilely, hoping to stop the bleeding, but the blood seeped through his fingers. Echo looked up at him with an almost peaceful expression, smiling before closing her eyes and drifting off. Bellamy held her face with a hand covered in blood and began to sob. Clarke turned away. She couldn’t handle anymore death today. But as she looked around amidst the screams and moans of her people, she realized she would get no such relief._ _

__…_ _

__Clarke spent the night doing her best to help tend to the survivors. They lost five more before dawn, but with any luck, Clarke thought the remaining thirty or so would make it. At some point during the night she’d had a brief reunion with Raven and Monty, who were apparently in Tondc setting up a long range radio for the grounder army. She’d barely had time to properly greet them before the healers called for her to help another patient, but she promised Raven with a quick hug that they’d catch up later. An hour or so after the sun had risen, Clarke felt a heavy hand on her shoulder._ _

__“You should get some rest.” Bellamy stood next to her, his expression unreadable. He motioned to a grounder--one of the healers Clarke had been working with throughout the night--before walking away, too quickly for Clarke to respond. The healer led her outside to a row of tents in the center of the village square and opened the flap of one, motioning for her to go in. Clarke stepped inside to find a bed and not much else. She sat down wearily on the edge, but felt, surprisingly, not at all sleepy. She got up and slipped out the tent, without knowledge of where her feet were taking her. She stopped just short of a burning pyre at the edge of the village, a tall lone figure standing before it. As she stepped closer she recognized him._ _

__“I’m sorry about your sister.” Clarke felt somewhat stupid for saying it. Ronan turned to look at her and nodded with acknowledgement, but otherwise said nothing. They stood there in silence as the flames consumed the deceased body, reducing it to ashes. Clarke felt a familiar pain in her chest, not at the sight of the body, but at the way it served as a reminder of a previous memory--standing side by side with Lexa as she spoke, in an unusually intimate confession, of how she had lost Costia. Lexa had told her love was weakness that day. And on a day not long after she had proved to Clarke the truth of those words, leaving her abandoned at the Mountain’s door._ _

__A grip around her hand pulled Clarke out of her reminiscing. She looked down in surprise to find her hand had, of its own accord, reached out to grasp Ronan’s. He didn’t turn to look at her, but gave her a gentle squeeze in response. Clarke stared at his profile, admiring for the first time his dark, angular features, feeling somehow very close to this man she had met not twenty-four hours ago. Ronan turned to look at her finally, and Clarke felt a slight blush on her cheeks at having been caught staring._ _

__“Would you like do the same for your mother?” It took Clarke a minute to process what Ronan was asking. After throwing herself in the work of treating the victims of the bomb, Clarke had hardly a chance to contemplate her mother’s death. It still didn’t quite feel real. Clarke swallowed._ _

__“Yes, I’d like that.” Ronan gave her another quick squeeze before disengaging his hand from hers and walked back towards the infirmary, leaving Clarke behind. A few moments later he returned, carrying a body wrapped in cloth. He laid it down gently on the pyre, careful not to burn himself, and added more wood to the bottom to feed the flames. They stood silently once again and watched the fire claim her mother’s body. Clarke didn’t have it in her to cry--she felt terrifyingly numb. After a long while, she broke the silence._ _

__"I lost both my parents in the span of a year," she said, unsure as to why she was divulging such person information to a stranger._ _

__"I guess that makes me an orphan now." _Orphan_. Clarke repeated the word in her mind and felt a bitter taste in her mouth. Ronan said nothing, but then turned to look at her._ _

__“You should get some rest.”_ _

__“I can’t sleep...I tried but I’m...it’s, it’s too much.” Clarke struggled to convey the overwhelming weight she felt in her chest. “I can’t feel anything and it,” Clarke paused, “it scares me.” Ronan looked at her with an unreadable expression. After a long moment, he reached down and gently grabbed her hand._ _

__“You can still feel Clarke.” He looked at her with compassion and a certain level of understanding. Clarke bit her bottom lip, as if doubting his statement._ _

__“Come,” Ronan said, leading Clarke slowly towards one of the standing tents. He led her inside and closed the flap, turning to stare at her with a look Clarke found familiar but was unable to place. He began to undress after a moment, taking off his outer layers and shoes, before pulling his undershirt over his head, much to Clarke’s surprise._ _

__“What are you doing?” Clarke gazed at his lean and well-muscled torso, her eyes lingering over the constellation of scars there before looking up._ _

__“You said you could not feel and that it scared you,” Ronan said matter of factly, taking a step towards her. Though he hadn’t answered her question, Clarke started to register his intention in bringing her here._ _

__“I didn’t mean…” Clarke let out a shaky breath, “I don’t think sleeping together is the answer.” Ronan stared at her blankly._ _

__“Perhaps not, but I am offering a momentary escape from our loss, an opportunity to ‘feel something’, as you put it, should you want it.” Clarke took a breath. She was struck by Ronan’s transparency--she genuinely believed he had not brought her to his tent to take advantage of her but merely to provide some mutual solace, however brief. And though she knew it was unlike her and would not make her feel better in the long run, she felt her body start to awaken with desire. It had been some time since she’d been physically intimate with someone...not since Finn…_ _

__Before she could think too much about it, Clarke shrugged off her jacket and pulled her shirt over her head._ _

__“I don’t want to be alone,” she said, before closing the gap between Ronan and herself and reaching up to kiss him._ _

__…_ _


	2. II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tense Clarke/Lexa reunion. Some more details about the new enemy are revealed. 
> 
> You all had some strong feelings about Ronan...don't worry, he doesn't make an appearance in this chapter. I realize it was kind of shitty of me to post that first chapter, ending the way it did, without introducing Lexa yet, so I hurriedly wrote this (forgive any mistakes!). That being said, those of you expecting a quick and happy Clexa get-together fic should probably look elsewhere--as I already mentioned, they're gonna have to work for/toward that. So it'll be kind of a slow burn in that sense, and I hope more true to their characters/the context. Anyway, enjoy!

Lexa was in a war meeting with representatives from the twelve clans--thirteen if you count Marcus Kane, who had come to Polis to express the interests of the Skaikru in their coalition--when Octavia all but ran into the room, out of breath, followed closely by Lincoln. Lexa didn’t have time to feel annoyed at the interruption.

“Bomb...hit Camp Jaha…” Octavia said between gasps for air. Lexa stood up.

“When?”

“This morning, Indra sent us as soon as we saw it,” Lincoln responded. Lexa didn’t bother wasting time--she ordered a number of her warriors to ready the horses and accompany her to Tondc. When one of her generals had the audacity to question whether it was wise of her to leave the relative safety of Polis, she had muttered that “no where is safe” and dismissed him with a look that promised murder should he question her again. A half an hour later she led a group of eight grounders from various clans, plus Lincoln, Octavia, and Kane, on horseback out the gates of Polis. 

The ride was silent and afforded Lexa some time to contemplate strategy. With the Sky People gone, they were left without the advantage of their weapons, technology, medicine...perhaps most importantly, without the ability to understand the technology of their enemy. When Lexa had first heard the warriors from the Mountain Clan describe the “moving weapons” that attacked one of their villages a month or so ago, she was incredulous. Weapons were lifeless...even those like the guns the Skaikru used could not move of their own accord. It wasn’t until she had seen them with her own eyes a few days later, when the enemy struck a village in Trikru territory, that she acquiesced to the reality of the new threat, though she still found it hard to believe--they looked unlike anything Lexa had ever seen in her life: large, hulking, almost human-shaped figures but more rounded, cased in metal. She had sought out the Sky People’s help to learn what the moving weapons were and, though reluctant at first to form an alliance after her betrayal, they had given in after a number of their people were taken by the airborne silver weapons. “Drone-bots,” Raven had called them. “Machines made to fight.” Lexa, in her ignorance, had asked if they were alive. “No..they’re controlled remotely as far as I can tell.” Lexa found that hard to believe, having witnessed first hand the ability of these machines to improvise attacks on the battlefield. “Controlled by whom?” she had asked. “Whoever it is, they have access to some very advanced technology,” Raven had responded with something resembling reverence in her voice. 

Their answer came a week or so later, when one of the drones had descended just outside the gates of Polis and projected a kind of moving image (a “hologram” Raven had called it) of a life-size woman dressed in red requesting an audience with the Commander. She looked so real when Lexa stepped out to meet her, she had mistaken her for being there in the flesh and, perhaps foolishly, attempted to run her sword through her not five minutes into their conversation. The shadow-woman had laughed at that. “You cannot kill me Leksa kom Trikru,” she had said with a smile, “We will speak again when you are ready to listen,” and then she had, quite literally, disappeared, the drone-bot lifting up into the air and escaping before Lexa had time to attack again. The woman in red, or “kikon trikova” as her people call her, gave no indication as to her intentions or location--she had merely told Lexa that her mother, residing in the small remote village of Lexa’s birth, would be taken by the end of the day if Lexa did not do exactly as she said. That’s when Lexa drove her sword through what should have been the woman’s abdomen. A futile gesture, and her mother was taken anyway.

Lexa grit her teeth as she urged her horse to pick up its pace toward Tondc. Until they got their hands on one of the living weapons, dissecting it to find its weaknesses, the grounder army would be all but useless. And they wouldn’t be able to do that without the Skaikru...or at least without Raven. Lexa hadn’t thought to ask Octavia or Lincoln the extent of the damage, but if the bomb that hit camp Jaha was even remotely similar to the one that hit Tondc during their last war--the missile she had _let_ hit Tondc, Lexa reminded herself bitterly--she could guess as to the state of the Skaikru. They were a fractured and prickly ally, even more so after Clarke had left them, but they were the key to understanding this new enemy, and, if Lexa was being honest with herself, she cared for their safety and well-being beyond that, perhaps for Clarke’s sake. Clarke...her thoughts turned then to the blonde girl who had fallen from the sky and marched into the Commander’s tent--and Lexa’s life--with such bravado not six months ago. Before this war, she had been all Lexa could think about, memories of her--her soft and eager lips on Lexa’s own, the look of utter devastation on her face at Lexa’s betrayal--had kept her up many a night. But Lexa had hardly a moment now to recall what could have been with Clarke kom Skaikru, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t find her current troubles, serious as they were, a kind of welcome distraction. Still she did sometimes, even now, wonder if Clarke was alright; if she was even alive or if she had, like many of her own people, been taken.

Lexa and her group arrived at Tondc just after sunset. They were met by Indra, who, at Lexa’s request, guided them to the infirmary to see the extent of the Skaikru’s injuries. Only thirty or so Sky People survived the attack; Clarke’s mother--the Chancellor--was not among them. Kane was distraught at the news

“Where is her body?” he asked, turning to Indra. Bellamy took a step forward and answered in her stead.

“Clarke burned it this morning.” The mention of Clarke’s name seemed to make time stand still for Lexa. Clarke...Clarke was alive, Clarke was here in Tondc? She was so immersed in the dizzying feeling of relief, she didn’t register Octavia’s yelp of surprise behind her, or indeed, any sound in the room for that brief moment.

“Clarke...Clarke’s here?” Kane asked Bellamy, who nodded with a tired smile. Finding her voice, Lexa finally spoke.

“Where is she? Take me to her.” Bellamy gave Lexa a curious stare before answering.

“I think she’s asleep.”

“I need to see her for myself,” Lexa insisted, as if she would not believe Bellamy’s words until she did so. Hearing the urgency in her tone, Bellamy nodded and gestured past the Commander towards the exit.

“This way.”

Bellamy led them to the temporary tents set up in the central square of Tondc. He pointed to one of the tents and said, “She’s in there, but we should let her rest--she was up all night treating patients.” Lexa nodded and swallowed before peeking inside the tent assigned to Clarke, only to find the bed empty. She turned back around.

“She’s not here.” Lexa tried to will a rising sense of panic down.

“Are you all looking for Clarke?” Lexa turned toward the voice to find a limping Raven making her way slowly in their direction. She nodded at the mechanic in what could have passed as both a greeting and affirmation. Raven stopped a few feet away.

“I, uh, think she’s sleeping in another tent…” Lexa furrowed her brows. Raven took a breath as if exasperated by the group’s perplexion.

“You know, with that one tall mysterious Ice Nation guy she came here with yesterday?”

“Ronan?” Bellamy asked.

Raven nodded. “I saw them walk into that tent over there together this morning.” She gestured with a slight movement of her head towards the tent. Bellamy raised an eyebrow. Octavia snickered. Lexa for her part was still a bit confused. She knew what Raven was insinuating but didn’t have the time or energy to feel jealous. There was a pang of _something_ in her chest at the mention of this Ronan, but she pushed it down as soon as it reared, and raised up the wall she utilized to guard her from emotions in its place. She felt her face slip into an impassive mask.

“When she wakes, tell her I require her presence,” and with that Lexa turned in the direction of her commander’s quarters and walked away. 

…

An hour later, Lexa stood over the large strategy table in her tent that held a map littered with miniature figurines representing the players in their most recent war. She was surrounded by a few generals from the other clans, as well as Indra, Marcus Kane, and Bellamy. At present, Kane was arguing with a general from the Desert Clan about their next move.

“We should fortify Polis--bring the entire army there and goad the Kikon Trikova into attacking. When she does, we’ll go out to meet her with our full strength,” the general insisted.

“That would be a death trap. I just came from Polis--I’ve seen its “impenetrable walls”--but no wall can keep out these machines when they possess the ability to fly. Brute force will not win this war. We need to capture one of the drones and find a way to use it to communicate with the Kikon Trikova, find out what she wants, if she can be reasoned with...” A voice from the far side of the tent interrupted Kane before he could finish.

“...Reasoned with? She used an atomic bomb to wipe out Camp Jaha, killing hundreds of our people without provocation. I think it’s pretty obvious she can’t be reasoned with.” All eyes turned to face the source of the voice, finding Clarke standing just inside the tent’s entrance. Lexa took in her appearance. She was thinner, older somehow--dark shadows lined her eyes, her hair pulled back in a messy braid. Lexa couldn’t help holding her breath when they made lingering eye contact.

“And who are you?” another general scowled, annoyed at having been interrupted. Clarke looked at him unfazed. She took a step forward.

“Clarke kom Skaikru.” There was a murmur in the room. Lexa caught the general to her left whispering under his breath with grudging respect, “Skaiheda.” It was Kane who spoke up first.

“Clarke--we’re happy to see you and grateful for your opinion, but you’ve been missing for months and don’t know the details of our current situation. These drones the enemy uses are damn near indestructible, we won’t win relying on combat in the field.”

“You’re right Marcus--we won’t win if we fight in the traditional sense. We need to utilize different tactics.”

“What do you have in mind, Clarke kom Skaikru, destroyer of the Mountain?” The question came from a general of the Boat People, a soft-spoken woman eyeing Clarke curiously. Visibly swallowing at the moniker, Clarke turned to face her.

“Assassination--the drones are controlled by this Kikon Trikova, correct? We take her out, we end this war.”

“If only it were that simple,” Bellamy replied. “We don’t know who or what or where she is.” Clarke didn’t skip a beat.

“We need to capture one of her ‘living weapons’ and have Raven take a look inside. If she’s controlling them, we should be able to trace the signal.”

“Assuming we’re able to catch one. The few we’ve managed to take down self-destruct after becoming incapacitated.” The room grew silent as Clarke took a moment to process this new information.

“Then we find a way to catch it without damaging it too much. The self-destruct function is probably triggered by a loss of power. Keep the thing running and we should be able to pick it apart without getting blown up.” The room grew silent again as everyone seemed to be mulling over the feasibility of Clarke’s plan. Lexa took the opportunity to finally speak.

“It is not an unwise strategy, but for it to work, we need to know where they’ll attack next.” Lexa caught Clarke’s gaze and for what seemed like an eternity, neither looked away. It was Clarke who finally broke it.

“Then we need to provoke an attack.”

“And how do you suggest we do so?” Lexa asked, trying and failing to catch Clarke’s gaze again.

“Give her something she wants--lay a trap.”

“And what, pray tell, does she want?” the general from the Desert Clan asked with some amusement. Lexa swallowed hard, having a premonition of Clarke’s answer before the words left her mouth.

“The Commander.” 

The room fell silent once again. Lexa couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of pride at Clarke’s ruthlessness as she gazed at her cold, stoic features. She had taught her well.

Indra spoke first: “Leave the Commander of the twelve clans as bait? You just want to enact your revenge…” 

The room descended into chaos, the generals yelling over each other and the Sky People. Lexa calmly but sternly raised her voice.

“Shof op! That’s enough.” All eyes turned to the Commander.

“I will do it--we’ll meet to discuss the details of the plan tomorrow.”

Indra attempted to protest. “Heda, this is unwise…”

“It’s not your decision to make Indra.” Lexa’s eyes skirted around the room.

“You’re all dismissed. Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow the real work begins.” She brought her gaze down to the map on the table before her as the generals and Skaikru began to shuffle out of the room.

“Not you Clarke--you stay.” Clarke was standing behind Lexa already on her way out, but she pursed her lips and did as the Commander asked. Lexa waited for everyone to leave the room before speaking, eyes still staring intently at the map in front of her.

“Your strategy is solid.” Clarke said nothing. Lexa’s words seemed to hang suspended in the air between them, ringing hollowly in her own ears.

“How do you know the Kikon Trikova will fall for the trap?” Lexa heard Clarke sigh behind her.

“Ronan told me she asked for an audience with you outside Polis. She obviously knows who you are and wants something from you. She’ll come if you’re out in the open.” Lexa felt her mouth go dry. Clarke’s willingness to use Lexa as bait brought to the fore the memory of Lexa’s betrayal at Mount Weather. They both felt it weighing heavily between them, unspoken but there. 

“What else did Ronan tell you? You seem to have grown close,” Lexa said, somewhat bitterly. She felt Clarke step closer.

“Stop it. You don’t get to do that, not after what you did.” Lexa debated feigning ignorance, but she never could lie to Clarke.

“I did what was best for my people. I never had a choice.”

“Yeah, your people come first, I know.”

“I won’t apologize.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

Lexa took a deep breath and turned to face Clarke, standing a mere foot away.

“But I am relieved you are alive, Clarke. I was...worried about you.” Clarke’s features didn’t soften at Lexa’s admission, but her eyes seemed to be searching Lexa’s face for something. They stood staring at one another for moment--feeling the potent, inexplicable connection between them, like they were drawn together by some gravitational pull--before Clarke spoke again.

“I understand why you did what you did...that doesn’t mean I forgive you Lexa. I was mad for a long time--hell, I’m still mad. But in the interest of protecting the handful of my people who are left, I’m willing to put my issues with you aside for now so we can fight a common enemy.” 

The barest hint of a smile crossed Lexa’s lips. Clarke understood that her own feelings of anger and resentment had to give way to the priority of keeping her people safe. Again, Lexa considered how different this Clarke was compared to the girl who had said once she couldn’t stop caring. She had learned from Lexa’s “lessons” after all. Lexa nodded slightly at Clarke.

“Good, so we’ll discuss the plan in the morning,” Clarke said turning on her heel to leave the Commander’s tent. Lexa’s voice followed her.

“Clarke, I’m sorry,” Lexa paused, “I’m sorry about your mother.” Clarke stopped walking, but didn’t turn around. She just stood there with her back to Lexa for a solid minute.

“Thank you,” she said finally, so low it was almost a whisper, and continued out the tent without a backwards glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have a lot more action/plot so stay tuned!


	3. III.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Clarke/Lexa reunion from Clarke's POV. Clarke is dealing with a lot of feelings she's trying and failing to ignore, and Ronan reveals some surprising information regarding Lexa's conversation with A.L.I.E.
> 
> I know I promised action in this chapter, but as I wrote I quickly realized I wanted to take some time to delve into Clarke's psychological state to give her character more depth. But stuff's gonna pick up in the next chapter, I promise. Thanks for the comments and kudos!

Clarke woke with a jerk. She sat up, gasping for breath with her hands clenched into fists as she took in her surroundings. Disoriented for a moment, she willed herself to calm as she registered she had been dreaming, or rather, in the throes of a nightmare whose shadowy images were already retreating from her conscious mind. She could guess as to the nightmare’s content though--most likely of the same nature as the dreams that had plagued her since Mount Weather--bodies with radiation burns hunched over dinner plates; a crowd of horribly disfigured children surrounding her, reaching for her with burnt arms and one word on their lips: _Why?_ The word haunted Clarke during her waking moments as well, though she attempted to fend off the guilt with some ready-made answers: _Because I had to save my people. Because Cage forced my hand. Because I didn’t have a choice_. None of them seemed to appease the ghosts, who she felt she carried with her in her limbs, like an insurmountable weight that dragged her towards the earth and kept her feeling sluggish, tired, and, perhaps surprisingly, simply numb, like she was a hollowed out version of the person she used to be before she pulled that lever. 

Clarke yawned and blinked, one hand reaching up to wipe the sleep from her eyes as she recalled the events of the previous 24 hours. Camp Jaha decimated. Most of her people had, in the end and despite everything Clarke had done, suffered the same fate as those in Mount Weather, even her Mom...perhaps it was karma, retribution by some angry god for the things she had done. Clarke felt a pressure build in her sinuses, a warmth behind her eyes signaling the coming onslaught of tears. She would not cry, she would not...So she reached down into that feeling of numbness she had learned to rely on since Mount Weather, and let it cover her like a protective blanket. There were no gods--Clarke was sure of that now--at least not ones who watched over human events and assured justice and a purpose to them in the end. No, the only god she served was survival--the survival of her people at whatever cost--and the fact that there were fewer of them left, didn’t change that fact. She resolved to find whoever it was that attacked Camp Jaha, not for revenge, but to ensure the continued safety of her people. She thought over everything Ronan had told her about this new enemy, the Kikon Trikova…

Ronan. Suddenly Clarke remembered the other events of the past day, looking around the tent to see if maybe she had not registered his presence. It was empty--it appeared he had left after their brief sexual encounter. Clarke took a deep breath, recalling the flurry of heated, almost desperate touches they had shared a few hours before. It hadn’t been sweet or gentle, not even intimate in a sense--but it had been what she needed in the moment. The whole thing was unlike her, but, she thought, legs swinging over the edge of the bed, it was not unwelcome. 

Clarke got up and dressed quickly, wondering how long she had been asleep and how long it had been since Ronan left her sleeping in his tent. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep there, but then again, she had underestimated her exhaustion. Emerging from the tent, Clarke took in the sights outside, the residents of Tondc still bustling about. Only this time, they didn’t ignore her--a good amount of them stopped and turned to stare at her as if she was some kind of apparition. She felt the stares boring into her and heard murmurs in trigedasleng, but was unable to catch what they were saying. Maybe they had finally recognized who she was…

“Hey, Princess! Glad to see you finally up.” Clarke turned to find Raven yelling at her from across the way, smirking. She jogged up to meet her.

“So, did you sleep well?” Raven asked, raising an eyebrow. Clarke didn’t exactly feel like being teased.

“Yeah, I did. And before you continue questioning me with obnoxious innuendos--Yes, I slept with Ronan. We’re both adults, it wasn’t a big deal, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

Raven raised her hands in the air, in a sign of surrender. “Hey, that’s cool, no slut-shaming here.” 

Clarke took a moment to take in Raven’s appearance--she’d barely had time to speak with her before, busy as she was treating the patients in the infirmary. She looked tired, her face puffy from what Clarke guessed was a lack of sleep or crying, or most likely, both.

“Are you okay?”

Raven pulled her lips into a smile--one Clarke knew was forced. Raven was strong, perhaps the toughest among them, but she knew when the girl was putting on a face.

“Yeah, it’s just been a long couple of days.” Clarke nodded and rested a hand on the other girl’s shoulder.

“It has.” Raven looked up at her then, chewing on the inside of one cheek.

“I just feel like everything we went through, all the things we did to survive...and for what? Just to have most of our people die in one blast? It feels unfair…” Clarke could see Raven struggling to form words, swallowing repeatedly in an attempt to hold down the emotions that threatened to undo her.

“I know. I feel that too. But we’re here--you and me and Bellamy and the rest--and we’re going to make it.” 

“Abby didn’t,” Raven said, her voice cracking. Clarke willed her face to remain stoic. She had forgotten how close Raven and Abby were. After coming down from the Ark and finding out about her mom’s betrayal, Clarke had felt herself growing further disconnected from her, like they were becoming different, unrecognizable people to each other. In a way, Raven had been a kind of surrogate daughter for Abby--they seemed to share a level of understanding Clarke no longer possessed. 

Clarke stepped closer and pulled Raven into a hug. Neither said anything for a long moment, but when Raven finally pulled away, there were tears streaming down her face. She smiled through them, and reached up to wipe the trails with her hands. 

“The dead are gone…” Clarke said, her voice sounding surprisingly steady. Raven gave her a quizzical look.

“You sound like the Commander. Speaking of...she was looking for you earlier, said to tell you she ‘requests your presence’,” Raven said the last part in a tone mimicking the grounder leader’s voice.

“Lexa, she’s here?” Clarke asked, as if she couldn’t believe it. She felt a kind of excitement mixed with dread well up in the pit of her stomach.

Raven nodded. “Yeah and she didn’t seem too happy about you spending the night with Mr. tall, dark, and handsome.” Raven waited for Clarke’s response. After it became clear she wouldn’t get one, she spoke again.

“What happened between you two?” Clarke knew she was referring to Lexa. Raven was met with a long silence.

Clarke took a deep breath. “She betrayed us at Mount Weather and left us to die remember?” she finally said, eyes unwilling to meet Raven’s. Raven raised an eyebrow and stared at her like she knew she was hiding something. Clarke didn’t feel like playing this game.

“Look, can you just tell me where she is?” Raven pointed in the direction of the Commander’s tent.

“It’s the big tent at the end, can’t miss it.” Clarke nodded in response and turned to leave.

“They’re having some kind of war council, just so you know,” Raven called after her. Clarke set her face in a determined grimace. Good--she had a few ideas of her own to contribute.

…

Clarke didn't expect the feelings that hit her like a tidal wave when she saw Lexa again, an intimidating presence dressed in full Commander attire, hovering over the war plans on the table in the center of the room. Anxiety, fear, anger, and, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t help but feel...not love certainly, not even attraction, but an aching pain in her chest that refused to quiet itself and reminded Clarke of the deep connection they shared, whether Clarke consciously willed it or not. So she did her best to avoid Lexa throughout the meeting and focused on detailing the plan that had only just started to form in her head about how to win this war. 

When Lexa had turned to her towards the end of the meeting and asked her how she planned on drawing the enemy out in order to capture one of the drones, Clarke somehow knew the answer before she had fully formulated it in her mind.

“Give her something she wants--lay a trap.”

One of the grounder generals, distrusting of Clarke, spoke up then, asking Clarke what the Kikon Trikova could possibly want. Clarke avoided Lexa’s gaze, which she felt boring into her side. She didn’t hesitate.

“The Commander.” 

After a long pregnant pause, everyone started shouting--Indra accusing her of wanting revenge, presumably for Lexa’s betrayal, Kane and Bellamy defending her to the grounders who looked ready to jump her--until Lexa’s voice finally cut through the uproar.

“Shof op! That’s enough,” she paused, “I will do it--we’ll meet to discuss the details of the plan tomorrow.” Clarke couldn’t help glancing at her now, but Lexa’s eyes were on the others in the room. After that, she had dismissed them, despite Indra’s protests--well, all of them except Clarke.

“Not you Clarke--you stay.” Clarke contemplated ignoring her for a moment--she didn’t take orders from Lexa, she didn’t owe her anything, but coming to terms with the reality of her situation, she thought better of it. Her people depended on this alliance now, and despite her anger, the weeks of cursing Lexa under her breath in the dark and the days spent fixating on the thought of bringing a knife to her throat, she needed to play nice. Lexa’s voice brought her out of her introspection.

“Your strategy is solid.” Clarke said nothing, biting her tongue. Really? She was going to avoid the elephant in the room and go straight to war strategy? Clarke didn’t feel like indulging her small talk. She stared at Lexa’s back, shoulders hunched forward toward the table in front of her.

“How do you know the Kikon Trikova will fall for the trap?” Clarke sighed when she realized Lexa would probably avoid speaking of Mount Weather altogether, and perhaps, that was for the best.

“Ronan told me she asked for an audience with you outside Polis. She obviously knows who you are and wants something from you. She’ll come if you’re out in the open.” Clarke discerned the rather troubling fact that she did not feel bad about using Lexa as bait, not because she wanted to sacrifice Lexa in some petulant notion of revenge, but simply because she didn’t care or couldn’t bring herself to care. That’s the way Clarke wanted it--the emotions she had felt at first seeing Lexa now tightly under control, locked away in some deep vault in her chest where her heart had been. _Love is weakness_ she told herself. Lexa had taught her that, after all. But Lexa's next words caught her off guard.

“What else did Ronan tell you? You seem to have grown close.” Though she said it rather matter-of-factly, Clarke could sense the jealousy in her tone. Lexa was never good at practicing what she preached.

“Stop it. You don’t get to do that, not after what you did.” Clarke knew Lexa understood what she was referring to: Lexa’s betrayal had crushed any chance of them being...whatever they were or could have been. She had no right to feel jealous.

“I did what was best for my people. I never had a choice.” There it was. The same excuse Lexa, covered in blood, had given her at the Mountain’s door, and the same excuse Clarke had been repeating to herself in response to the demons of guilt that plagued her these past few months.

“Yeah, your people come first, I know.”

“I won’t apologize.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

Lexa turned to face Clarke then, and Clarke’s breath caught in her throat a little at their relative proximity.

“But I am relieved you are alive, Clarke. I was...worried about you.” 

Okay, she hadn’t been expecting that either. Clarke felt the dull ache in her chest return at Lexa’s words, but tried her best to ignore it. She needed to keep her emotions in check for this to work. They were leaders, first and foremost, and that meant putting personal feelings aside for the good of their people. Right now that meant smoothing things over with Lexa, which didn’t exactly mean Clarke should just forgive and forget. She searched Lexa’s face for any hint as to what she was thinking or feeling. She wasn’t surprised to find, though Lexa’s features remained in the stony Commander’s mask she had learned to recognize, a deep sea of emotion in Lexa’s eyes. Clarke felt the pang in her chest spread.

“I understand why you did what you did...that doesn’t mean I forgive you Lexa. I was mad for a long time--hell, I’m still mad. But in the interest of protecting the handful of my people who are left, I’m willing to put my issues with you aside for now so we can fight a common enemy.” 

Clarke saw Lexa register her words with something akin to relief and a kind of respect. Good--it seems they could be amicable after all. And though Clarke wouldn’t consciously admit it, she too felt a sense of relief at having let go or at least put aside her bitterness at Lexa, even if momentarily. Who knows, maybe they could even work their way up to the mutual respect they had shared before Lexa’s betrayal. If Clarke was honest with herself, she missed the level of common understanding her and Lexa had. Two young women, forced to grow up way too fast, compelled to set aside their own desires, even their humanity, for the good of their people.

“Good, so we’ll discuss the plan in the morning,” Clarke said before thinking too much about it, and turned to leave Lexa’s tent. She was halfway to the door when she heard Lexa’s voice softly call out behind her, stopping her progression.

“Clarke, I’m sorry...I’m sorry about your mother.” And in that moment Clarke felt the wave of feelings she had pushed down come bubbling up inside her all at once. She sensed the warm tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks at the sheer immensity of emotion. She would not cry in front of Lexa, she would not allow her to see her vulnerable. Clarke swallowed and choked out a hoarse “Thank you,” before rushing out the tent.

…

Wanting to avoid any familiar faces, Clarke made straight for the direction away from the village center, where people were gathering to eat. She walked for a while, taking deep, calming breaths to steady herself. Her head felt swollen with the effort of pushing back against the feelings that seemed to be slowly tearing her apart from the inside--all because Lexa had mentioned her mother, and now Clarke couldn’t stop seeing Abby’s face every time she closed her eyes to blink away the tears. A voice from behind her brought her out of her thoughts.

“You didn’t tell me you were the Skaiheda...the one who brought down the Mountain.” Clarke hastily wiped her face, but didn’t turn around. She felt Ronan approach softly from behind.

“I owe you a debt of gratitude--for bringing to justice those who captured my sister and my kinfolk.” Clarke couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh at his words.

“It wasn’t justice...it was a mass execution. I slaughtered everyone in Mount Weather, innocent and guilty alike. Children…” Clarke’s voice caught in her throat. She turned to face Ronan, not caring that there were tears still falling down her cheeks.

“I’m a murderer. I’m responsible for genocide. I’m no better than the Mountain Men who took your sister.” Clarke found no look of sympathy in Ronan’s face, only a piercing stare that seemed to reach into Clarke’s very soul.

“You did what you had to do to save your people,” Ronan said softly. “You did not kill them in cold blood, you did so because you had no other choice.”

“It was wrong…” Clarke began to say, but he cut her off.

“There is no wrong or right--only the choices we make and their consequences. You chose life for your people, and for mine--and for that I am grateful.” Clarke chewed her bottom lip, taking in Ronan’s words. He reached up to tentatively wipe a trail of tears from her cheek with his thumb.

“Though the consequence for such a choice is that you live with pain and the weight of a heavy conscience, you should not regret what you did. Neither should you forgive or attempt to ignore it. These feelings mean you are still human, Clarke.” Clarke felt herself leaning into Ronan’s touch. They stood there for a moment. She made no move to step away, nor did he remove his hand from her face. Once again She felt oddly comforted by this man she barely knew.

“Thanks, and thank you for um, last night, or, I guess this morning...I’m sorry if I overstepped by falling asleep in your bed.” Ronan removed his hand and merely nodded at her words. After a pause he changed the subject.

“You spoke to the Commander?” 

Clarke pursed her lips. “Yeah.”

“And the generals have discussed a plan of attack?” 

“Something like that…” Clarke paused, contemplating the wisdom in sharing strategy with someone who was still very much a stranger to her. Technically they might be considered strangers, but Clarke had a pretty good knack for reading people, and she felt she could trust Ronan with her life.

“We’re going to lay a trap, leave the Commander out as bait so we can capture one of the moving weapons and hopefully find a clue as to the Kikon Trikova’s whereabouts.” Ronan’s eyes widened uncharacteristically.

“And Heda agreed?”

“Seems so,” Clarke said, glancing toward the tree line. “You’re surprised by that?”

“I...no, I suppose not. Given everything the Commander has already sacrificed, it’s not surprising she would put herself in danger for a chance to find the enemy's location.”

“What do you mean, everything she’s sacrificed?” Clarke asked, her gaze returning to meet Ronan’s.

“Her home village was destroyed some weeks ago, her mother taken by the Kikon Trikova in retaliation for Heda’s refusal to comply with her terms.” Clarke felt her stomach sink. It seems she wasn’t the only one who had recently lost a mother. And Lexa had failed to mention it, even when she had expressed her condolences for Clarke’s own loss not half an hour before in her tent. She and Lexa appeared to share yet another thing in common, though Clarke genuinely wished it wasn’t the case.

“What terms?” Clarke asked, her voice a bit shaky. Ronan searched her face then, in a way that told Clarke he was also considering whether she was worthy of trust.

“I believe Heda hasn’t said, but I was outside the gates of Polis when she and Kikon Trikova met--I had seen the living weapon approach the capital and followed it covertly, hoping to catch it at unawares when the Kikon Trikova appeared in front of it and requested an audience with the Commander. I hid behind a rock and listened to their exchange.” Ronan paused, inhaling deeply before continuing.

“She asked Heda to attack the Ice Nation--my people, and betray the coalition.” Clarke’s eyes widened.

“And she refused?” 

Ronan looked at Clarke for a moment before responding.

“Yes, and I’m sure you are aware of my people’s history with the Commander…”

Clarke remembered Lexa’s description of what the Ice Nation Queen had done to...

“Costia,” Clarke spoke her name without having intended to say it out loud. Ronan gave her a curious look.

“Yes, but the feud between Azgeda and Trigedakru goes back long before that. Our people have never cohabited peacefully,” Ronan sighed. “In any case, despite the bad blood between us, Heda refused to ‘destroy the Ice Nation’ as the Kikon Trikova asked, and her mother paid the price for her refusal in blood.”

Clarke let the new information sink in. Lexa had given up her own mother for the sake of the coalition, even though she knew that Lexa must still harbor some feelings of resentment towards the Ice Nation and their Queen. The pain in Clarke's chest seemed to throb.

“Why was there a feud between your people’s and Lexa’s before?” Ronan gave Clarke another curious look, probably at the casual mention of the Commander’s given name.

“That’s a long story, perhaps better told on a full stomach.” Ronan gestured back towards the village center. Clarke’s stomach growled as if in response, and she smiled sheepishly.

“Okay, we’ll eat, but then I want to hear about it.” Ronan returned the smile before moving past her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why does A.L.I.E. want Lexa to take out the Ice Nation? You're just gonna have to keep reading to find out.


	4. IV.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia annoys Lexa by giving her some advice. Clarke and Lexa share a...moment. The plan to capture one of the drones is carried out, but goes anything but smoothly. 
> 
> Okay wow really didn't expect to post this today but I came home and kind of pounded it out. You're getting more Clexa in this chapter than before, but don't get ahead of yourselves...there's plenty of obstacles in their way. Also, I want nothing more than to have Raven and Octavia be Lexa's bros, because girl could use a friend.

The plan was relatively simple--have Lexa and a small group of warriors travel some 20 miles north east to the edge of the Dead Zone, away from any populated villages; lure one of the drones out into the open and ambush it, capturing it with a net that would insure against its escape; and have Raven figure out a way to turn the thing off without getting blown up. The difficulty lay in the number of contingencies the plan afforded--there was no way of knowing if having Lexa march out to the middle of nowhere would catch the Kikon Trikova’s attention; no way of knowing if she would spy Lexa’s accompanying group of warriors and smell a trap; no way of knowing if the drone would merely blast its way out of the net and kill them all anyway; and no way of knowing if Raven could even figure out how to bypass its self-destruct function. It was risky, to say the least, but they were able to come up with a number of insurances. Lexa proposed that her guard clothe themselves in the attire of the desert dwellers--those who traversed the Dead Zone after having been banished from their respective clans--avoiding too much suspicion if they hung back and kept their distance from the Commander. When they called Raven into the meeting and proposed the plan to her, asking for her help in creating a kind of net that would trap a drone-bot and whether or not she could manually shut it off, she said both could be done--that a net made out of reinforced steel wire should keep the thing from clawing or blasting its way out long enough for her to hopefully render it powerless without it self-destructing. 

“How long do you need to make it?” Lexa asked, feeling grateful that this girl whom she had once accused of attempting to poison her and sentenced to death, seemed to have put aside her past with Lexa.

“A couple of days at most, boss,” Raven responded, a hint of mockery in her tone. Lexa had to refrain from rolling her eyes, choosing to merely nod in acknowledgement. Okay, so maybe things weren’t completely smoothed out between them.

“Do it.”

And so, the next few days after hammering out the details of the plan were spent assisting Raven in creating the steel trap, tending to the wounded from the attack on Camp Jaha, and, for Lexa, avoiding Clarke kom Skaikru. It wasn’t that she didn’t _want_ to see her--some buried part of Lexa longed to go back to the long nights spent with Clarke in her tent, discussing strategy until the early morning hours--but another, more conscious part of her knew the kind of effect Clarke had on her. Being near her seemed to cloud her judgement, and she needed to keep a clear head if their plan was to succeed. Plus, there was the matter of Ronan--Clarke had hardly left the Ice Nation warrior’s side these past couple days--and as much as Lexa hated to admit it, the sight of Clarke emerging from his tent in the morning made her stomach churn unpleasantly. Which explained why she was out sparring with Octavia of all people at this early hour. A narrowly missed swing by Octavia’s sword caused a sudden wooshing sound near her ear and brought Lexa out of her thoughts.

“Something on your mind, Commander?” Octavia asked with a self-satisfied grin, her chest heaving. 

Instead of responding, Lexa took the opportunity to drop down and hook her right leg around Octavia’s, swinging it underneath her stance and causing the other girl to fall, rather ungracefully, on her back with a thud. 

Octavia sat up with her arms behind her for support. “Okay, Okay, geez. I’m sorry for asking.” Lexa stared down at her for a moment, expression unreadable, before offering her a hand. Octavia eyed it suspiciously before taking it.

“Your technique is improving,” Lexa said, after helping the other girl up. Octavia glanced at her sideways, wiping the sweat from her brow.

“As much as I’d like to think the Commander of the twelve clans is paying me a compliment, I know I just took advantage of the fact that you’ve been distracted--and you’re avoiding the conversation.” Lexa’s face remained impassive.

“Are all Sky People this…”

“Intelligent?”

“I was going to say prying.” Lexa turned to face Octavia, only to be met with another smirk.

“You know,” she started, sheathing her sword, “I thought it was pretty weird that you asked me to spar with you yesterday--I figured you would have better-trained warriors to do that with. And when you asked me again this morning, I knew something was up. Then I remembered that both times, Clarke happened to have just walked out of her tent with Ronan…” Lexa’s jaw clenched as Octavia eyed her, searching her face for confirmation.

“Jealousy’s a bitch. It can really make you wanna wail on something. And I just happened to be nearby so…”

“You’re suggesting I’m jealous of Clarke?” 

“Well technically, I’m suggesting you’re jealous of Ronan.” Lexa stared at the girl smugly standing before her, features unmoving. There was a long pause.

“No,” Lexa merely said and turned to walk back towards Tondc. To her annoyance, Octavia followed suit.

“No? I’m not blind you know, I see the way you look at her…” Lexa stopped suddenly and whirled around to glare at Octavia.

“Clarke and I...nothing will ever happen between us.” Octavia saw Lexa’s eyes soften almost imperceptibly. “Not after what I did…” The admission caught them both by surprise.

“Look, I’m not your biggest fan and I don’t think you’ve made the best choices in the past.” Lexa swallowed, recognizing that Octavia was referring to the missile she had let fall on Tondc. “But I understand why you made them, and I don’t think it’s because you’re a bad person.” Octavia paused, her hand reaching for the back of her neck before letting out a sigh and continuing. 

“Indra told me about your plan to capture the drone--leaving yourself out as bait. I think it’s admirable everything you’re willing to sacrifice for your people, even Clarke. And even though she’s probably not crazy about you right now, I’m sure she understands that too.” Lexa’s gaze dropped slightly as she considered Octavia’s words. When she looked back up to meet her eyes, the girl was smiling genuinely.

“Besides, you two have to work together now. Ignoring her is probably not an option.” Lexa nodded slowly, wondering how she had managed to find herself in this situation with Octavia. _Another girl I sentenced to death_ Lexa thought, wondering if Octavia knew about that. As stubborn as the Sky People were, they didn’t seem to hold grudges.

“Now can you just talk to her like a normal person and stop beating me up every morning? It wears me out. And if I show up to another one of Indra’s training sessions sore and tired, she might just kill me.” Lexa felt herself smile at the words.

“Very well,” she said, with a new-found respect for the girl Indra had adopted as her second. They walked the rest of the way to Tondc in comfortable silence.

…

Lexa didn’t expect to talk to Clarke so soon after her conversation with Octavia, but Clarke showed up at her quarters unannounced later that same evening. Lexa had been pacing around her strategy table, going over the details of the plan again in her mind for the 100th time when a voice brought her out of her concentration.

“It’ll work--no need to worry yourself.” Lexa gazed up at Clarke standing at the tent’s threshold. 

“I don’t worry,” she muttered coolly. Clarke took a step forward.

“Someone once told me that plans don’t last very long in battle--tiring yourself over questions already asked and answered is a waste of energy.” Lexa caught the hint of a smile on Clarke’s lips and couldn’t help but feel herself returning it. Clarke took another step closer.

“Anyway, you won’t have time to worry much longer--Raven did it. I just came from her workshop; she finished the net.” Lexa found herself staring back down at the table in front of her.

“Then we leave tomorrow--at first light. I’ll send word once we’ve captured the drone.” Clarke’s face scrunched up in response.

“Send word? I’m coming with you.” Lexa willed her eyes to remain on the table, pretending to stare intently at the map that lay across it.

“No, we need you here in case something goes wrong. I’ve already chosen the guards who will accompany me, and Raven, since she’s needed to pacify the weapon.” Lexa felt Clarke come up behind her.

“I don’t take orders from you.” Lexa turned around to face her.

“Yes you do--your people who are left are too weak and too few to survive without my protection, and entering the coalition means you do take orders from me now.” Lexa could see the anger start to build in Clarke’s eyes. She softened her tone.

“Your people need you here Clarke--your skills as a healer are still required.”

“Those skills might be required on this mission. And I have other skills, rudimentary knowledge of machines--my father was an engineer. Raven might need me there.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Lexa said flatly.

“I think I’ve proven I can take care of myself. Besides,” Clarke paused, turning to the side, “putting me in dangerous situations didn’t seem to bother you before.” Lexa swallowed at the words and felt like she was swallowing razors. She stared at Clarke’s profile for a long moment before sighing.

“Fine, I won’t stop you from going, but I will make you take another guard for your protection.” A compromise--something Lexa had a feeling would be needed often to pacify their butting wills. Clarke looked up at her then, features significantly softer. 

“Thank you.” They stared at each other in silence for a while before Clarke spoke again.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your mother?” Clarke registered the brief look of shock on Lexa’s face before it settled into her trademark mask. 

“Why would I?” Clarke paused as she searched Lexa’s face for something before speaking again.

“Ronan told me about the terms the Kikon Trikova offered you outside Polis--that she asked you to attack the Ice Nation capital in exchange for your mother’s safety.” Lexa furrowed her brows in confusion--she hadn’t told anyone that conversation, worried that it would sow discontent amongst the clans and cause them to turn on one another and break the coalition. Clarke picked up on her confusion.

“He overheard you talking...he had been tracking the drone to Polis and hid himself while you conversed...he’s not in trouble is he?” Lexa pursed her lips, annoyed at Clarke’s concern for the Ice Nation warrior.

“No...I just didn’t think anyone knew.” Clarke waited patiently for Lexa to continue.

“The woman in red offered me no terms--it was blackmail. As Commander, I’m sworn to protect my people, and that means I can’t value one life, even my mother’s, over the rest.” Lexa looked up to find a wealth of sympathy in Clarke’s eyes.

“That must have been difficult for you...I’m sorry.”

“It’s not the first nor the last time I will be forced to make a difficult sacrifice for my people. That’s what it means to be a leader.” Clarke had a vague notion that she was referring to her betrayal at Mount Weather.

“You bear it so they don’t have to…” Clarke said sullenly, recalling the words Dante Wallace had told her shortly before she had shot him in the chest. She looked up to find Lexa staring at her, her eyes searching Clarke’s.

“Still, realizing that can’t make it any easier.” 

“No, it doesn’t. But you already know that.” They held each other’s unblinking gaze. Clarke knew Lexa was referring to Mount Weather--surely she must have heard what Clarke had done--but she was grateful that Lexa avoided speaking about it explicitly and didn’t attempt to make her feel better with excuses about how she had no choice but to save her people. No, there were none of the familiar excuses on Lexa’s lips, only an unspoken recognition of the fact of what she had done--of what they had both done--and an acknowledgement of their shared pain. Clarke’s eyes looked down, struck once again with how similar they were; how this girl standing before her (and Clarke had to remind herself that she really was a girl, not much older than herself), a girl she had cursed and despised for the last few months, was quite possibly the one person in the world who truly understood what she was going through. She looked up to find Lexa staring at her intensely, like she was drowning and Clarke was a life raft. Clarke felt a familiar pang in her chest. She took a step closer into Lexa’s personal space, so close she could feel Lexa's body giving off heat. Lexa flinched almost imperceptibly, but didn’t back away.

“I’m sorry...for your mother,” Clarke repeated the words Lexa had spoken to her a few nights before. Lexa felt her mouth go dry at Clarke’s proximity; she felt like her skin was radiating heat, like there was an electric current coursing between them. Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip, and she caught Clarke’s gaze following it, watching the memory of their last and only kiss replay in her eyes. Clarke leaned her face in, impossibly closer; so close Lexa could feel her hot, warm breath tickle her lips. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself to take a step back. Her backwards movement seemed to snap Clarke out of her daze, who took a sudden step back as well, as if she had been burned by Lexa. This...whatever this was, could not happen--Lexa knew that any relation with Clarke beyond a platonic one was sure to bring either or both of them pain before the end. She scrambled for something to say, searching her mind for words that could put some distance between them in more than just a literal sense. 

“Ronan is a good and faithful warrior.” Clarke’s eyes widened a bit at that--Lexa didn’t have to explain what she was insinuating. As upset as it made Clarke that Lexa would assume her and Ronan had anything serious or exclusive going on, or that Clarke wasn’t capable of making her own choices about who she did or didn’t sleep with, it was clear that the brief...moment they had just shared was better left unconsummated. 

“Yes, he is,” Clarke agreed softly. They stood in silence, each trying to gather their bearings. Clarke suddenly felt ashamed for...well she wasn’t really sure what for. It was clear that her and Lexa shared a deep connection, and that ignoring it only made it rear up in unexpected ways. So she chose the mature thing to do: recognize it for what it is--shared experiences and raging hormones--and move on.

“Okay, well. I’ll see you tomorrow when we head out.” Clarke’s eyes avoided Lexa’s, settling on some object behind and to the side of where she stood. 

Lexa nodded, her throat bobbing slightly. “Goodnight Clarke.” 

“Goodnight Lexa.” Clarke glanced at her briefly and turned to leave.

…

They left at dawn--Lexa, along with seven grounder warriors, including Octavia and Lincoln, as well as Raven, Clarke, and Ronan, whom Clarke had chosen as her required “guard”--all of them except Lexa dressed in muted browns for camouflage. It took them about six hours to reach the Trikru territory’s border, at which point Lexa had told the rest of them to hang back as she pressed on alone into the edge of the Dead Zone ahead, her war paint on and sword strapped to her back. The group kept her in eyesight at all times, pushing forward as the trees and grass gave way to dry plains, and finally dessert. It was past noon when they spotted a pale dot in the sky, growing larger as it approached Lexa. They swung around to the left, and hurried their pace in silence, attempting to catch the drone at unawares. Clarke eyed Raven from her peripheral vision and turned to give her a quick smile. In spite of her many protests, she was being securely carried by one of the large Trikru guards Lexa had previously ordered to do so. If this plan was going to work, they’d have to be quick on their feet, Lexa had said. Raven had shut up at that and remained quiet for the remainder of their journey, except for the occasional grunt.

Clarke looked ahead and realized how strange it was that the drone was not attacking Lexa. From her point of view it appeared as if the two were talking--good that would buy them some time, she thought. As the group approached quietly from the back, they could make out that Lexa was indeed speaking, presumably to a holographic image of the Kikon Trikova. They were close enough to catch their conversation halfway through.

“Why should I trust that you’ll do as you say, after everything you’ve done?” Lexa’s eyes never left the drone in front of her, but Clarke could somehow tell that she had registered their approaching presence.

“Because you have no other choice, Commander. Besides, I would think the chance to get rid of the clan who’s responsible for the murder of your former lover would appeal to you.” Lexa’s face remained inscrutable, but Clarke knew her well enough to read the rage building behind her stony expression.

“Yes, that’s right _Leksa_ ,” the holographic woman said, speaking Lexa’s name in a Trikru accent. “I’ve been watching you for some time. You’re quite a remarkable human.” Lexa clenched her jaw.

“So remarkable in fact, that I’d rather not kill you. Now be a good girl, and do as I say. Or I’ll be forced to take someone else you care about...perhaps that blonde one, what’s her name? Clarke?” Before Clarke could blink Lexa was lunging at the drone with her sword, missing it by a hair as it stepped aside. Clarke watched in amazement as one of the robot’s limbs, vaguely shaped like a human arm, began to transform into a sharp blade. Lexa got a solid swing in before the drone started countering her attacks, blocking and thrusting its newly-formed sword against Lexa’s. Clarke clenched her teeth. They needed to capture this thing in one piece, but Lexa’s proximity to the drone meant any attempt to trap it would most likely trap her too. She looked over at the grounder guards holding the net Raven had made, hesitating to move forward.

“ _Nau_!” Clarke whipped her head back to see Lexa, sword caught in the drone’s metal body, yelling at them frantically. The guards wasted no time. They ran forward and attempted to throw the net over the drone, only for it to spin around and see them approach. Clarke watched as it started its thrusters, attempting to get away, when Lexa jumped onto its back, grabbing on to it in a rear choke to hold it down. The net fell around them and the grounders moved to keep the drone--and Lexa--down. Clarke saw Lexa and the robot struggle on the ground, as if they were wrestling. She would have found the image absurd if it wasn’t so real.

“Raven! Now would be a good time for you to shut this thing off!” She said, looking at Raven who was grabbing at the grounder’s arm who carried her. He brought her towards the net and placed her down as Clarke sprinted closer. Lexa still had the upper hand from what she could tell--she was straddling the drone, repeatedly slamming her fists into its head, her knuckles bloody from the effort. Raven tried to reach for the back of the drone’s neck, where, Clarke was told, there was some kind of panel.

“I can’t reach it! Lexa you have get off so I can access the panel!” Raven yelled.

Lexa didn’t need to be told twice. She rolled onto her side, taking the drone with her and exposing the panel. Raven used a flat head to prop it open, uncovering a mess of wires and chips. The drone’s other arm, the one that wasn’t a blade, came up to land a blow to Lexa’s gut that caused Lexa to gasp out. She wouldn’t be able to hold it down for long. Clarke wondered why none of the grounders were attempting to help her. She looked at their faces, all watching silently as their Heda wrestled this machine on the sandy desert floor. Clarke turned to Ronan, standing beside her.

“Help her!” He looked at her blankly for a moment before turning back to where Lexa and the drone were fighting, reaching down to try and keep the drone off her.

“Just one more minute!” Raven called out, working away at the panel. Clarke stood over Raven, watching her work at separating the mess of wires, and tried to recall the handful of things her dad had taught her. It has to run on a battery…

“If you take out the ground wire, it should cut the power, right?” Clarke said. Raven didn’t bother looking up at her.

“Yeah princess, if only it were that easy. But I’m trying to figure out how to bypass the self-destruct function, and it’s kind of hard when this thing won’t stand still...” A yell caused Clarke to turn her head. Lexa was on the floor, clutching at her side where the drone had managed to pierce her with its blade. Without thinking Clarke lunged at the robot, tackling it face down on the ground before it could do more damage.

“Raven! You need to do this now!” Raven moved to the panel once again, her hands roaming over the wires. 

“Okay, okay I think I got it! Just one more…” Raven cut a number of wires in succession. Clarke closed her eyes, waiting for the impact that would surely blow her to pieces if Raven was wrong, but only heard the sound of the machine powering off. 

“Got it!” Raven said, looking up.

Clarke moved off of the droid as soon as it was clear it wouldn’t be going anywhere. She lifted the net off of Lexa and fell to her knees next to her, examining her injury. There was blood seeping out of her clothes, marking the dusty ground a deep red. 

“She needs a bandage!” Clarke said looking up at the group around her. “Lincoln, can you get me my bag?” Lincoln nodded and sprinted for the first aid kit Clarke had dropped a couple yards away. In the meantime, Clarke took out her knife and began to cut Lexa’s shirt in order to gain access to the wound. There was a large gash on her side, just below her ribcage. Lincoln dropped the bag beside Clarke, and she reached in to grab an antiseptic wash and a towel, and began wiping the area clean; then she wrapped a cloth around it as tight as she could. Lexa’s eyes were shut in pain, but she was still conscious, taking fast, shallow breaths. 

“Lexa, you need to keep pressure on this, okay?” Lexa nodded, gritting her teeth as she moved her hand to press on the wound. Clarke turned to Octavia.

“Octavia, you need to run back to Tondc ahead of us--tell them the Commander’s been wounded and will need medical attention as soon as we arrive. If you can come back and meet us halfway with a horse, even better” Octavia stole a quick glance at Lincoln before nodding and sprinting away. Clarke then looked to the largest grounder in the group.

“You’ll need to carry her.” He looked to Lexa hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure he should follow the Skaiheda’s orders.

“It’s fine Atticus. Do as she says,” Lexa said with a grunt. He reached down and picked her up. Clarke couldn’t help but think the other grounders looked embarrassed at the sight. Something about seeing their Commander vulnerable, she guessed. Also probably why they hadn’t made a move to help her before… Ronan offered Clarke her hand and she took it, moving to stand by the grounder carrying Lexa, scanning her body for any other injuries. It appeared most of them were surface wounds--scrapes on her knuckles, a bruise already darkening on her cheek. 

“You shouldn’t have interfered,” Lexa spoke, exhaling shallowly.

“You shouldn’t have jumped on that thing and trapped yourself in the net,” Clarke replied. Lexa looked at her with an unreadable expression before she smirked and closed her eyes. Ronan reached down to grab Clarke’s arm.

“It is seen as a dishonor to interfere in the Commander’s fights. That’s why none of us did,” he said in almost a whisper. Clarke looked up at him and pressed her lips together.

“Yeah well, your Commander--who, by the way, once again refused to sell out your people--was in mortal danger. Seems there should be an exception to that rule.” Ronan looked at her curiously for a moment.

“You risked your life for hers,” he said calmly, as if stating a fact. Clarke stared straight ahead, saying nothing.

“I didn’t know you were close.” Clarke took a breath before responding.

“Yeah, me either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few surprises in store for the next chapter so stay tuned. And as always, thanks for the comments and kudos! Always appreciated.


	5. V.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven makes a startling discovery about the living weapons, Lexa deals with tragedy in a very Lexa-like way, and a visitor from Polis arrives with a message.

Lexa woke with a start, her eyes fluttering open suddenly as she moved to sit up. A sharp pain in her side kept her from doing so, and she laid her head back down when she remembered what had happened--conversing with the Kikon Trikova; getting caught in the net with the drone; said drone stabbing her; Clarke…

Lexa turned her head to find Clarke sitting next to her, in a chair she had moved close to Lexa’s bed; eyes closed, chin resting uncomfortably on her own chest, mouth slightly ajar. Lexa almost smiled at how young she looked. She took a breath and turned her attention back to her side, lifting the blanket on top of her to get a better look at her wound. She was dressed in nothing but her chest binding and the shorts she wore as undergarments, with the exception of a large bandage wrapped around her midsection, covering where she had been stabbed. Lexa’s fingers traced the wound beneath the bandage, feeling a line of raised bumps an inch or so long.

“I swear to god Lexa, if you rip those stitches out, I’ll kill you myself.” Lexa turned back to face Clarke, who was now sitting up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes blinking away the remnants of sleep. She said nothing for a moment, only let her hands fall down to her sides in obedience, holding Clarke’s gaze.

“You didn’t have to stay--I’m fine.” 

Clarke snorted. “You were pretty out of it when we brought you back...wouldn’t sit still though you lost a lot of blood, kept talking to yourself…” she paused. “Even unconscious you somehow managed to rip out a stitch or two. I had to sedate you.” Lexa didn’t respond but was able to at least look a little sheepish. Clarke stood up with a yawn, stretching briefly before moving to inspect Lexa’s side.

“What did I say?” Lexa asked, trying not to focus on the fact that she was half-dressed and vulnerable beneath Clarke’s scrutinizing eyes. Luckily for her, Clarke’s attention seemed solely focused on her injury.

“Hm? Oh...nothing really I could understand…” Clarke’s eyes met hers for a moment and Lexa could tell she was avoiding a real answer.

“I need to change your bandage.” Clarke moved away to grab a clean bandage she had placed on the table.

“I can do it myself,” Lexa said, sitting up with some difficulty. Clarke ignored her and moved to crouch down beside Lexa’s bed so they were almost eye level. She began gently unwrapping the old bandage from Lexa’s middle in silence after Lexa had begrudgingly lifted her arm to allow her access. Once it was off, Clarke reached for the wet cloth she had brought with her and began to clean the dried blood around the stitches. Lexa’s stomach muscles flinched at the contact, but she otherwise stood still and kept her gaze straight ahead, avoiding staring at Clarke work. The room was silent except for their breathing. After cleaning the wound, Clarke reached out her hand, her fingertips delicately hovering over the area around the gash. Lexa felt herself shudder at the light touch and hoped Clarke hadn’t noticed. She suddenly felt very warm.

“Ahem.” A cough from the entrance of the tent caught their attention. Raven stood before them, her mechanic’s gloves still on her hands, one eyebrow lifted.

“Raven, hey. I was just changing Lexa’s bandage. What’s up?” Clarke stood up to face her friend quickly.

“Um, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I began dissecting the drone and found something I think you’ll both want to see,” Raven paused before continuing rather shakily. “It kind of freaked me out.”

Lexa had insisted on coming despite Clarke’s protests for her to stay in bed. She stubbornly refused the arm Clarke offered for support as the three of them walked to Raven’s makeshift workshop. Neither were prepared for what they found there.

Raven gestured to the back of the room, where the drone lay flat on a table. Clarke and Lexa approached cautiously, seeing nothing out of the ordinary until they were close enough to peek over and into the chest cavity Raven had opened up. They found a pale woman’s face staring back at them--shaven patches of hair on her head, hundreds of wires and circuits burrowed into bone and tissue--her eyes horribly, unimaginably awake and aware, pupils darting from left to right. Clarke gasped harshly, turning her head away. She heard a blow fall, quick and sharp and merciful, putting an end to the suffering of the creature in the mechanized drone who had once been a woman. 

“ _Yu gonplei ste udon...nomon_ ” Lexa said the last word softly, and if Clarke hadn’t been standing right next to her she wouldn’t have caught it. _Nomon…_ Clarke’s eyes widened and she turned to gaze at the features of the face, now unmoving, inside the drone. With the wires and blood it was difficult to tell, but Clarke could make out an unmistakable likeness. She turned to look at Lexa then, whose face remained as impassive as ever, but her eyes--there was a wealth of unshed tears in them, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel her heart break at the fact that even now, Lexa wouldn’t allow herself to cry. She suddenly felt lucky that her own mother had suffered a relatively quick and painless death compared to this...this dragged out, tortuous hell Lexa’s had been subjected to, forced to raise her hand to her own people, her own daughter; and all while awake, perhaps even conscious...

Clarke reached out to touch Lexa’s arm gingerly. Lexa stood unmoving, and gave no indication that she it.

“Now we know what she does with the people she takes,” Raven said from behind them. Lexa turned to face her, snapping out of her trance.

“How long will it take you to dissect...it?” Lexa asked.

“I’ll need a few days. The technology is pretty advanced, even for me.” Lexa nodded and turned to leave, feeling suddenly nauseous. She stopped just short of the door.

“Was she...was she alive?” Lexa asked hoarsely, without turning around. Raven looked to Lexa’s back.

“Yes, I think she was...conscious at least. It appears the drones are actually some hybrid cross between human and machine: the human brains are integrated into the robot’s circuits, allowing it movement, adaptation, improvisation, which probably explains the skills they have in battle. They’re cyborgs, grounder-mechs…” Raven stopped short, realizing she was getting carried away. She couldn’t help it: from an objective perspective, the technology was really unbelievable...if one put aside the abhorrent cruelty it inflicted on its human subjects.

“Come to me as soon as you’re able to locate the Kikon Trikova,” Lexa said shortly, before stepping out of the room. Clarke took a breath and looked at Raven.

“She seems upset.”

“Raven, that is, or was, her mother in there,” Clarke said, willing herself not to glance back at the face inside the mech.

“Oh my god, I didn’t know...” Raven responded, scanning it cursorily. Clarke sighed.

“Just try to trace the enemy’s location as fast as you can okay? She might suspect we captured one of her soldiers and could hit us before we have a chance to take her by surprise.” Raven tightened her mouth.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said with a faux-salute. Clarke rolled her eyes, but put a hand on Raven’s shoulder.

“Look, you know we really appreciate everything you’ve done to keep us alive. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.” Raven smirked a bit.

“Yeah I know.”

“Okay well, let me know if you need any help.”

“Naw, I’ve got Monty helping...speaking of, could you grab him for me? He had to leave as soon as he saw what was inside this thing...might be throwing up still outside.” Clarke nodded, herself feeling a little queasy. 

…

Clarke left Raven’s workshop in search of Lexa, in spite of the fact that she was unsure of what she wanted to say. She stopped just shy of her tent, giving a quick nod to the guards on either side who now knew better than to question her, and inhaled sharply before entering. Lexa wasn’t in bed resting, much to Clarke’s consternation, but rather standing with her back to Clarke, staring down at what appeared to be a book in her hands. Before Clarke could say anything, or even take a step closer, Lexa spoke.

“Get out Clarke. I’d like to be alone.” The words hung heavily in the air, not with malice exactly, but misplaced anger.

“Lexa, I’m sorry…”

“I said: Get. Out.” Lexa turned around then, facing Clarke with a stony expression. Clarke found herself growing upset.

“Look, I get that you’ve been through a lot, but it’s okay to feel something every once in a while Lexa. That was your mother in there…”

“You have no idea what I’ve been through,” Lexa sneered, taking a step towards Clarke. Clarke didn’t shrink away, instead she moved forward to meet her.

“Yes, I do.” She stared up into Lexa’s eyes to find a raging storm of emotions--anger, grief, frustration, and most surprisingly, fear--before it softened infinitesimally. Lexa let out a weary sigh.

“What do you want from me, Clarke?” Lexa asked, exhaustion tinging her voice in a way Clarke had never heard before.

“Admit that I do have feelings? Explain to you how seeing my nomon trapped in that thing, refused a natural death or even proper burial, made me _feel_? What good would that do?”

“Lexa, I…”

“You’ve already made it clear that you can see right through me, Clarke,” Lexa said, mimicking the words Clarke had confronted her with on the eve of battle months ago. “So why do you insist on reminding me of my weakness?” Clarke grew silent. She really didn’t have an answer to that. She didn’t even really know why she had come to Lexa’s tent in the first place, though she suspected. She wanted to believe that there was a way to live after the things she had done without completely shutting down the part of her that made her human, and Clarke thought Lexa--the only other person she knew who carried the weight of so much death on her shoulders--might be able to show her how. Clarke furrowed her brow, suddenly realizing how selfish she had been to come here.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke said, before briefly glancing at Lexa and walking out the tent. Lexa’s eyes were downturned again, staring at the book in her hands. She didn’t bother to watch Clarke leave.

Once outside, Clarke took a deep breath to try and calm a sudden wave of dizziness. She felt her stomach tighten and churn unpleasantly. What the hell was wrong with her? Whatever it was, Clarke didn’t want to dwell on it--it seemed best to ignore the crippling sense of panic she felt at the thought of Lexa mercifully putting her mother out of her misery; or the image that came unbidden with it of her own mother’s body burning on a funeral pyre. She went straight for Ronan’s tent in search of a distraction, stepping inside and walking up to him without hesitation, pushing him back until the back of his knees touched the bed.

“Clarke?” He barely had time to get the word out before she was kissing him desperately, hands reaching down to tug at his shirt. Ronan grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back gently.

“Clarke, what’s wrong?” He said, his face the same passive expression he wore always.

“Can we not talk?” She moved in to kiss him again, but he held her back, his forehead scrunching up slightly in concern. Clarke felt herself growing irrationally angry. Her emotions were wildly running the poles of the affective spectrum, and she’d be damned if she couldn’t find a little relief in the form of distraction. “I need this,” Clarke insisted, her arms coming up to take Ronan’s off of her shoulders. He remained stubbornly unmoving, much to Clarke’s irritation, and Clarke did something she did not expect. Her hand reached up and slapped Ronan across the face, hard. His eyes widened slightly, but he otherwise showed no sign of surprise at Clarke’s outburst. Clarke suddenly felt a wetness on her cheeks--the only indication that she was crying. 

“I’m sorry, I...I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she croaked, looking up at Ronan. He said nothing, only stared at her with soft, compassionate eyes, and then hesitantly moved to wrap his arms around her in a hug. Clarke stiffened at first before feeling her body relax against him, arms reaching up to return the embrace. They stood that way for a while, Clarke softly crying into his chest, before she disentangled herself with a sniffle.

“Thanks,” she breathed, wiping her eyes. “I’m really fucked up right now.” Ronan just smiled at her, reaching up to push a stray golden hair behind her ear, and Clarke felt a warmth spread in her chest from the unexpected tenderness.

She slept in Ronan’s bed that night--fully clothed, comfortable, and safe.

…

The next few days were spent waiting for Raven to crack the mech and preparing for war. A number of dignitaries from the other clans arrived in Tondc to partake in the strategy meetings in Lexa’s tent that often lasted well into the night. Clarke was there for all of them, and found herself growing impatient with the business of politics. It seemed there was still some dissension among the clans from the previous war, and now that word was spreading about the true nature of the living weapons--a fate worse than death for those who had been taken--along with whispers about the Kikon Trikova’s demands for an attack on the Ice Nation capital, the meetings more often than not descended into strained arguments and infighting. Lexa seemed unfazed by it every time, patiently hearing out each of the grounder leaders and intervening only when they seemed to be at each other’s throats. They listened to her, respected her more now that she had proven her commitment to the unity of the coalition, in spite of her personal history with the Ice Nation. Some of the clan leaders felt such a commitment to be a waste of course, but that didn’t mean it was any less admirable in their eyes. Wild rumors about her fight with the living weapon helped bolster her image as well; no one had previously taken one down single-handedly--not without being destroyed along with it. As for Clarke, she was treated with a mix of reverence and suspicion by the clan leaders. Her past history with the grounders marked her as a perceived threat, but her reputation as destroyer of the mountain kept any explicit hostility at bay.

Despite their last tense interaction, Clarke and Lexa appeared at least outwardly to be getting along just fine. If Lexa noticed Clarke emerging every morning from Ronan’s tent, she didn’t let on that it bothered her--in fact, she seemed wholly uninterested in Clarke. In the meetings, Clarke treated her with the right mixture of respect and aloofness expected from one clan leader to another. When Clarke wasn’t in the meetings, she was either in Raven’s workshop--much to Raven’s annoyance, who had come up against a wall on her progress with the mech--or with Ronan, whose mostly silent presence she found comforting.

On the fourth day after the mech had been captured, Clarke accompanied Ronan on a hunt. She wasn’t particularly good at hunting, but found herself with nothing else to do after Raven had unceremoniously kicked her out of her workshop and told her, “Go play with your boyfriend. I can’t work with you you breathing down my neck.” They were tracking a boar when Ronan stopped suddenly, his hand moving up in a sign of caution. 

“What is it?” Clarke whispered.

“Someone’s coming," he said. Before Clarke could ask if it was perhaps another hunting party, the thick foliage in front of them parted and out stepped a hunched over and cloaked figure. A hood, not unlike the one Ronan wore, kept their features in shadow, but from their small stature, Clarke thought they might be a child. 

“ _Heya Ronan kom Azgeda_ ,” the figure stated in raspy voice, stepping forward. “And you, Clarke of the Sky People. It is a pleasure to finally meet.” Two frail, leathery hands came up to remove the hood and Clarke saw beneath it was an elderly woman with almond-shaped eyes, deep wrinkles adorning her face. Clarke turned to see Ronan bowing formerly next to her and gave him a quizzical look.

He said something in a language she did not understand--it was not Trigedasleng, but sounded somehow softer, the syllables littered with hisses. The woman nodded in response and he rose from his bowed position. 

“I request an audience with the Commander, if you two would be so kind to lead me to her.”

“Of course,” Ronan said, turning to lead the way before Clarke could protest. The woman eyed Clarke with a smile, as if waiting for her to move. When she saw that Clarke did not, she spoke.

“I am sure you have many questions for me Skaiheda, and I promise they will be answered in due time. For now you need only know that I am a friend, and I bring urgent news from Polis.” Clarke eyed her suspiciously still.

“What’s your name?”

“My name? It’s been so long I hardly remember,” the woman chuckled to herself softly. “But you may call me _Sín_.” Clarke stood there confusedly trying to make sense of the woman’s words before she heard Ronan’s voice calling for them to follow. Her curiosity would have to wait, she thought as she turned to walk back to Tondc, the woman following quietly in her footsteps.

…

Clarke was surprised to find that Lexa paid Sín the same deference as Ronan had, bowing politely upon seeing her and speaking the same words in the non-trigedasleng tongue. Sín, for her part, brushed aside the formalities with a smile, walking up to Lexa and placing her hands on either side of her face, like a grandmother appraising her grandchild after not having seen them for months. She whispered something to Lexa that Clarke did not catch, but she heard Lexa whisper back, in a doleful tone, “ _Sha...nomon_.” Sín held her face in both hands for a while, both staring at each other in silence, before the old woman sighed and brought her hands back down.

Clarke turned to Ronan, still standing by her side at the threshold of Lexa’s tent, and asked him who the woman was.

“She is a _sín-in_ , a seer,” he whispered back, as if Clarke would know what that meant. She gave him a questioning look.

“She’s the eldest on the council of seers, in Polis--they preside over the Conclave, the selection of the Commander, and sometimes provide the Commander with guidance or advice during their tenure, though very rarely.” Clarke remembered Lexa telling her about how the grounders believed their leaders were reincarnated. She didn’t have time to ask Ronan anything further, as the woman had turned to address her directly.

“The news I bring concerns you as well, Clarke of the Sky People, destroyer of the Mountain.” She was looking at Clarke with soft eyes full of sympathy. “I’m afraid you will know more suffering before this is over, child.” She let out a heavy sigh before turning back to Lexa.

“I’ve _seen_ a whole civilization laid to waste, destroyed in a flash brighter than the sun; the green earth turned to a desolate desert, a cloud of dust and ash marking where our children once gathered; a woman in red and a tower in the east…” the woman paused, her eyes glazed over. “Only this time it was not a memory.” Lexa stepped closer to her, a frown forming on her face.

“You’ve had a vision?” The woman did not look at her when she spoke, her voice shaking from the effort.

“It is happening again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sin in" is the Trigedasleng word for witness--I took some liberties with the accent. The role/abilities of the seers in grounder culture will be revealed in time, as well as Ronan's relationship to them. Also, the drones will be referred to as mechs/mecha from now on, since they're piloted from the inside by human brains rather than remotely. 
> 
> I hope Clarke didn't stray too far out of character in this chapter--I'm still trying to figure out how to write a person suffering from PTSD in a believable way. As always, comments are welcome/appreciated!


	6. VI.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn more about Ronan, the role of the seers, and the enemy's plans. 
> 
> SORRY this has taken so long to put up. Writing this chapter was like pulling teeth. There was a lot of information I wanted to get down in order to set up the rest of the story, but I wanted it to happen organically and well, I feel like maybe I fell short of that here. But as tedious/overbearing as it is, trust me when I say it's all necessary to where the plot is going. Also, I suggest maybe going back and rereading the previous chapter before jumping in, since it picks up where that one left off.

[two weeks ago]

Ronan tried to focus on his breathing. Inhaling and exhaling, the movement was supposed to mimic the folding and unfolding of the universe, sync the mind and body together, and--what was it the elder had said to him on his first day?--empty oneself of...desire? In any case, the key to being a seer, the others had told him, was to maintain a conscious meditative state at all times and Ronan was finding it difficult.

Meditation and related breathing techniques were common practice among the Twelve Clans, but the type of mental strain he was undergoing in his training was beyond anything he had ever experienced. First the seers had forced him to fast and take a vow of silence (it had been twelve days, Ronan thought, since he'd had something to eat besides the measly portion of stale crackers and water they allotted him, and twelve days since he’d heard his own voice). Then, in addition to the 16 hour days spent meditating, they had him carry out a number of seemingly absurd tasks--balance a bowl of water on his head, undergo the elders prodding and sticking him with pins and needles, stand for an entire day in the nude. The “training” was to teach him how to “lose his self,” to “become no one,” the seers said. Only when his mind was empty, his interiority devoid of an I, could his body become a vessel for Sight. Ronan thought a lot of the metaphysical talk horseshit...but then he saw what the seers could do and wasn't so sure.

Today they had locked him in a dark, underground chamber with no perceptible source of light and left him there without a word. If someone had told him this is what being a seer entailed, he'd have declined. Of course, Ronan thought with a sigh, that would not have been an option. Even as a child, his rare abilities had not gone unnoticed. He remembered when his parents realized the dreams he recounted to them animatedly in the mornings were real--the events occurring exactly as he had described some hours, days, or weeks later. In Azgeda culture, seers were treated with fear and suspicion, and as a young boy he could tell his own parents felt uneasy around him when they found out what he was. Only his sister, Echo, treated him as she always had, going so far as to tell him he had a gift, a talent...

Ronan felt a wave of nausea hit him suddenly, bile rising to coat the back of his throat. It was happening. He had yet to experience a waking vision during his training or otherwise, his divinations thus far limited to his dreams, but he knew enough to know what it felt like. He attempted to keep his breathing steady and his mind blank, preparing himself for the onslaught of images...

Instead he found himself being wrenched from his body suddenly and violently. It would be difficult for him later to recall how it felt or what exactly happened. It wasn't that he saw what happened, it was more like he experienced time all at once, past, present, and future colliding in kaleidoscopic chaos. And yet that wasn't quite right--anyone with even mild psychic abilities could tell you it wasn't a matter of seeing the future exactly but rather predicting it given a number of possible outcomes. It was just that for seers, all possible outcomes were accessible, should one train their mind adequately to be open to time. Time, the seers were fond of saying, is the true nature of life; the secret subject of death, and the key that unlocks the mystery of rebirth by showing it for what it is: an eternal return. Return was their mantra. Everything returns--the organic to the inorganic, the body to the dust of the earth, order to disorder. Their philosophy, while dualistic in the sense that they recognized the double nature of all things--life and death, good and bad--was more profoundly monistic in that they realized the underlying unity that made up reality. It was only humans who divided this unity artificially according to perspective or utility. Thus their favorite saying, which they repeated at the beginning and end of all their sessions: "light and darkness is naught, only shadow and unshadow one and the same.” 

What Ronan saw in his first waking vision can best be described as a tree with infinite branches but without a trunk one could trace the branches to. At each point Ronan attempted to focus on, a thousand more branches would spring up, and more connected to those, ad infinitum. The curious thing was that one could not locate a beginning nor an end in this tangle of multiplying branches, only the movement of the branches waxing and waning with increased chance or probability. One branch caught his attention more than the others: an explosion, the Sky People's camp, Echo with blood pouring from her neck. It was all jumbled, the images without a coherent narrative, but it told him enough. Ronan opened his eyes with a gasp, willing himself to break the visions and doubling over with the effort. He got up shakily, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness. One thing was on his mind: he had to find his sister before it was too late.

...

[present]

"What's happening again?” Clarke asked, noting the way in which Lexa had frowned disconcertingly at Sín’s utterance.

“The end,” Sín responded, as if her words were self explanatory.

“The end of what?” 

“Everything. Everyone.”

Clarke saw Lexa visibly pale at the words. Ronan, standing next to her, inhaled sharply. The seriousness with which they treated this old woman’s pronouncements was baffling to Clarke--Sín didn’t exactly seem like the most mentally stable person, and here she was talking about the end of the world. Clarke felt like she was dreaming. The whole thing was so absurd, she would have laughed out loud if not for the fact that Lexa and Ronan seemed to believe her without hesitation. 

Lexa let out an audible sigh. 

“Which path must I take?” Sín turned to face her, her expression unreadable.

“It is...unclear, Heda. There are too many contingencies to say for certain, and I cannot tell you too much without altering the outcome. I can only say that the path with the greatest chance of survival is also that in which you stand to lose the most.” There was a deafening silence in the room for a long moment before a a voice interrupted.

“Listen, I need to speak to the Commander ASAP. I don’t care if she’s in some secret meeting…” Clarke heard Raven’s voice filter in from outside the tent where she was apparently arguing with Lexa’s guards. From the look on Lexa’s face, she heard it it too.

“Let her pass,” Lexa said, raising her voice so the guards could hear her. A few seconds later, Raven came limping in. She nodded at Clarke and Ronan, still standing near the tent’s entrance, and shot a curious glance at Sín before clearing her throat.

“Um, I uncovered some information from the mech that might be helpful.” Raven paused, as if unsure about whether she should divulge information in front of everyone present. When Lexa nodded, gesturing for her to continue, she took a breath.

“I cracked the navigation system. I have coordinates for what should be the enemy’s base of operations.”

“Where?” Clarke asked. Raven turned to look at her.

“Pretty far east. On a small island actually--I believe it used to be called Nantucket.”

“An island will be difficult to attack.” Clark turned to Lexa. “Do you have ships?”

“The Boat Clan can provide us with vessels, but we’ll be at a disadvantage from a military standpoint. She will see us coming before we can attack.” 

“Yeah, well we have another problem,” Raven said, before Clarke could respond.

“What?”

“I found another set of coordinates in the navigation log--the mech was programmed to go to them in two days’ time.” Raven took out a piece of paper from her back pocket and handed it to Lexa. Clarke frowned, noting how easily Raven seemed to regard Lexa as the one in charge. _I guess I have been gone a long time_ Clarke thought to herself, not that she minded being more on the sidelines for once. It was a welcome relief after...

“I marked the coordinates on this map.” Lexa stared at it with furrowed brows.

“This is a village in Ice Nation territory.” Clarke moved closer to glance at the map in Lexa’s hands.

“You think she’s planning an attack?” she asked.

“It is likely. We know she wants the Ice Nation capital. The best way to get it would be to attack smaller surrounding villages, drawing out troops and weakening the Azgeda defensive position.”

Clarke shook her head. “We still don’t know why she even wants the Ice Nation...how are we supposed to fight an enemy we know nothing about?”

Sín chose the moment to speak up. “She does not want the Ice Nation, Skaiheda. She wants what lies beneath it.” Everyone turned to stare fixedly at her.

“What do you mean?” Clarke asked. Sín bowed her head, as if deliberating whether or not to answer Clarke’s question. Lexa took a step towards her, growing impatient.

“Speak, Seer,” she spat. Despite the previous warm familiarity Lexa had shared with this woman, it was a command laced with a threat. A moment passed before Sín raised her head to look at Lexa with a melancholic gaze.

“The Kikon Trikova desires to play god and make her children in the image of man and machine.”

“The mechs…” Raven breathed. Sín nodded without looking at her.

“As of now they are more machine than man--flawed, limited by the boundary that separates the living from the dead…” Sín took a deep breath before continuing. “She wishes to transcend the laws of Nature and breed a new race of men to gain dominion over the earth. The key to creating life lies beneath the Ice Nation capital, _Bokapa_.” Clarke felt herself frown, trying to make sense of the woman’s ramblings.

“So you’re saying she wants to fabricate synthetic life?” Raven said incredulously. “Why?”

“She does not believe humanity’s children deserve to inherit the earth. It is why she attempted to destroy the world three generations past.” Clarke stepped towards her.

“You mean she’s responsible for…”

“The bombs. Yes.” Clarke tried to process this new information. The Kikon Trikova was responsible for the nuclear apocalypse? For the deaths of millions? It couldn’t be...Clarke looked to Lexa to gauge her thoughts. Judging by the way she was gritting her teeth, Lexa seemed to believe it.

“Where’s the capital, Bo...kapa?” Clarke asked. Lexa looked at her and wordlessly set the map in her hands down at the table in front of her.

“Here,” She said, pointing to a spot on the map. Clarke stepped closer and looked down. She tried to recall her geography lessons from the Ark.

“Boston…” Clarke turned to Raven.

“Any idea what could be underground a former major North American city that this lunatic would want?” Raven furrowed her brows.

“If madame creep over here is right,” Raven gestured towards Sín with a slight incline of her head, “I’m guessing some kind of biogenetic research facility? I’d read that before the nuclear war, scientists in the United States were on the brink of producing a viable synthetic life form, but, creating human life is a whole different ball game...” Clarke arched an eyebrow.

“Well an underground lab would explain why she wouldn’t just decimate the city with a warhead like she did with Camp Jaha, assuming she has more.” Clarke turned to Lexa.

“We need to go to the Ice Nation capital. Find what she’s looking for before she does.” Lexa studied Clarke’s features briefly before staring back down at the map.

“I will not leave the village to be slaughtered. We know she is planning on attacking it--we can take her mechs by surprise there.”

“It could be a distraction. She attacks a outlier village to keep eyes off of her while she sneaks into the capital…”

“Bokapa is the second most populated city after Polis...she will not be able to penetrate it unnoticed. Besides,” Lexa said, pursing her lips, “I could care less about the Kikon Trikova’s science experiments. I care only about protecting my people.” Clarke felt her stomach knot at the familiar words.

“Lexa, if Sín is right...this woman is evil. She’s responsible for destroying the world and now she wants to take it over. We have to stop her.”

“And our best chances of doing so are to take her at unawares in battle.” 

“We’ve already agreed that we won’t win this thing using traditional combat!” Clarke shouted, clearly exasperated. Lexa glared at her impassively, their faces less than a foot apart.

“With all do respect Heda,” Ronan, who had up till now remained quiet, spoke up, “You’re both right. We should protect the village but take advantage of the fact that the Kikon Trikova will be distracted to attack her location.” Lexa shot him a disdainful look.

“Since when does a foot soldier give the Commander military advice?” Ronan bowed his head respectfully, but the tension in the room at that moment could be cut with a knife. 

“Ronan kom Azgeda is no foot soldier, Heda,” Sín said, before Clarke could intervene. “He is a _seken_ to the council.” Clarke looked at Ronan questioningly. Second to the council? Like an apprentice? She thought of Anya’s second--the young girl she could not save. For a brief moment Lexa’s eyes widened in an uncharacteristic look of surprise before inhaling audibly and turning to face Sín.

“What can you see? Which path leads to victory?” she asked quietly. Sín closed her eyes and was silent for a good minute or two before she spoke, her eyes still closed.

“Should you chose to protect the village, you will suffer many casualties.” 

“And if I don’t?” Sín opened her eyes abruptly. 

“The village will be no more, and you risk a much greater loss.” Her words hung heavily in the air. Lexa turned around so her back was to all of them.

“Then it’s settled. We leave at first light. You are all dismissed.” Raven shot Clarke a glance as if expecting Clarke to put up a fight. Clarke merely shrugged her shoulders and made to leave, gesturing with an almost imperceptible nod of her head that her and Raven would continue the conversation outside.

Once everyone had shuffled out of Lexa’s tent, Sín grabbed Ronan by the forearm and leaned up to whisper harshly in his ear, “A word, seken.” She dragged him to the side, toward a small clearing in the tree line. Clarke noticed and formed an unspoken question with her eyes but he gave her a look that told her to stay put. Once they were outside of ear’s reach, Sín turned to look at him.

“You should not have left your training,” she reprimanded.

“I saw my sister…”

“I know what you saw, but have you not forgotten the vow you made before the council and the gods? You denounced your name and your ties. Your life is no longer yours to do with as you wish.” Ronan held her stare.

“Was I supposed to do nothing?”

“You should have put your duty first; before personal gain, love, and life itself--duty above all.” Ronan grit his teeth.

“That is not what I want anymore. I can’t.”

“Then you are _natrona_ , a traitor to the council. You know what the Commander does to traitors.” 

“And you, elder? Have you snuck into our camp from Polis by the will of the council? I thought seers were forbidden from intervening in political affairs?” Ronan said, taking a step closer into Sín’s personal space. She held his accusatory gaze for a moment before breaking out into a loud, hearty laugh, much to Ronan’s surprise.

“You are quite perceptive,” she said with a chuckle before her features became serious again.

“The council advised against me coming to warn the Commander. But this is not a personal or political matter. The end of everything hangs in the balance…” she sighed. “And we all have our roles to play. You have ignored yours.” Ronan bowed his head, feeling, without understanding why, that Sín spoke the truth. The elders had that effect on people.

“You’ve done a very foolish thing, boy. And now you are playing a dangerous game with destiny.”

“I thought there was no destiny, isn’t that why we can do what we do?” Ronan said dejectedly, eyes staring at the ground. Sín used her hand to cup his chin, making him look at her again.

“Tell me, seken: what good did running to your sister’s aid do you or her? Did she not meet her end regardless?” Ronan’s features hardened.

“You are shifting the balance of the world and the order of time by being here before you were fated to. Your meddling could very well cost us everything.” Ronan swallowed at her words.

“What must I do to make it right?” Sín dropped her hand.

“Follow your Commander’s orders and protect her life at all costs. If she is taken, we all die.” Ronan nodded solemnly, then turned to walk back towards Clarke, who was waiting for him still. Sín’s voice followed him.

“And stop sharing a bed with the golden-haired Skaiheda. She is meant for another.” Ronan stopped briefly, his eyes finding Clarke’s before he set his jaw and continued walking.

…

Lexa had spent the remainder of the day going over battle plans with her generals. They were to march north in the morning, hopefully arriving at the Azgeda village in two days’ time to meet the Kikon Trikova’s planned attack, but the trek was long and she was worried that they might arrive too late. Lexa looked down at the map on her table, tracing the path they would take with her index finger, and chewed her bottom lip. Her hands were tied in the matter. She could not mobilize her army sooner than first light; they would arrive when they arrived. Unless, Lexa thought, leaning her weight on the table, she sent a group of warriors on horseback to act as a vanguard, holding back the enemy and buying time till the rest of the army arrived by foot. It was risky, and she’d have to decide which of her men she was willing to send on what would most likely be a suicide mission. Some deep, dark part of her conjured the image of Ronan’s face in her mind’s eye. It would be almost too easy...

“You’ll risk much splitting your army, Heda.” Sín’s voice startled Lexa out of her thoughts. She turned to find the seer standing a few feet away. How long had she been there?

“I’ll risk more if I don’t.” Lexa paused and suddenly frowned, realizing she had not spoken her intentions out loud.

“I thought Seers predicted the future, not read minds.” 

“Quite right. And I’ve _seen_ that you will utilize this strategy of the vanguard in the majority of probable battle scenarios,” Sín said, with an amused smile. “Despite my advising against it.” 

“I make my own choices. I am no slave to fate,” Lexa said, crossing her arms over her chest. Sín’s smile grew.

“I see you’ve inherited more than just your mother’s features. You have her stubbornness as well.” When Lexa did not return her amusement, Sín let out an audible sigh.

“She was a good woman. She did not deserve...her fate.” Lexa avoided eye contact, her gaze coming to rest on the floor. Sín took a step closer, opening her mouth to say something but Lexa spoke first.

“Why do you advise against sending warriors ahead on horseback to protect the village?” Lexa asked, eyes still downcast.

“It is a precarious move, likely to lose many.” Sín paused to look down at the map. “Have you set it aside for anyone in particular?” Lexa looked up abruptly.

“I...No, I had not thought of who I will send.” Lexa swallowed. “It is a risky mission, but my warriors know victory requires sacrifice.” Sín met her with a penetrating gaze.

“Some victories are poisoned by the sacrifice they require and the spoils of war turn bitter on one’s tongue if taken dishonorably.” Lexa felt herself grow angry.

“You dare to…” Lexa was so infused with fury she could barely speak. But slowly the gears in her mind began turning. She had actually contemplated the idea of sending a warrior to his likely-death because...because he had something she wanted? Or was it that he reminded her of what she could never have? She suddenly felt disgusted at her pettiness and found herself unable to return Sín’s gaze. How transparent had she been? Had the seer guessed her intentions before Lexa had become fully conscious of them herself? Lexa recoiled mentally at her own blindness, her own weakness. She could not let her desires or her feelings outweigh the well being of her people. And she certainly could not allow them to cloud her judgement. Finally, she willed herself to meet Sín’s eyes.

“I...I would not ask my warriors to do anything I would not be willing to do myself.” She took a shaky breath. “I will lead the vanguard tomorrow. And I will take only volunteers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My inner philosophy nerd is definitely showing in this chapter (for those interested, I'm drawing on mostly Nietzsche, Bergson, and Spinoza), and this story will probably get a bit more metaphysical before the end (¯\\_(ツ)_/¯). The title, Unshadow, dropped here for the first time, is a clue to understanding the story's larger thematic (also, the idea for the title I lifted somewhat from Ursula LeGuin's sci-fi classic The Left Hand of Darkness).
> 
> My geography is shit but I thought Nantucket to be the most likely place ALIE is operating from, judging from Jaha and Murphy's journey in Season 2 (speaking of, I'm toying with the idea of having an interlude chapter on their role in this whole thing...). The research facility Raven is talking about is at MIT, in case that wasn't obvious. 
> 
> I'll probably be updating less now that school is starting up again--but don't worry I'm committed to seeing this crazy thing through :)


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke makes some plans of her own. Her and Bellamy share a moment. Lexa and Clarke share more than a moment ;)

After being unceremoniously dismissed from Lexa’s presence, Clarke took Raven to the side and told her she would meet her in her makeshift lab in ten minutes. 

“Why not now?” Raven asked. Clarke didn’t respond, her eyes fixed on something beyond Raven’s shoulder. Raven turned, following Clarke’s gaze to land on Ronan and the seer woman having what looked to be a very serious conversation just inside the tree line.

“Clarke?” Raven brought her hand up and snapped her fingers in front of Clarke’s face. 

“Wha...yeah um,” Clarke shook her head slightly. “I need to gather the crew.” Raven raised an eyebrow.

“Octavia, Lincoln, Monty, Miller, Bellamy…speaking of, any idea where he would be? I don’t remember seeing him around lately.”

Raven shook her head. 

“Your guess is as good as mine. He’s been pretty distant since Echo…” Raven trailed off. “But I can guarantee Monty is already in the workshop. Miller’s been hanging in the medical tent helping out the healers. Octavia and Lincoln...probably making out in the woods somewhere.” 

Clarke let out a suppressed snort before smiling at Raven’s comment.

“Thanks. See you soon.” 

She stepped past Raven and looked up to meet Ronan’s eyes as he walked back towards camp. He paused before turning to walk in another direction. _I wonder what they were talking about?_ Clarke thought, her eyes following him then coming back to meet Sín’s gaze. Sín smiled at her before walking back towards Lexa’s tent. Clarke shook her head. Whatever it was, it could wait. She had more important things to do.

She grabbed Miller first, pulling him out of the healer’s tent and instructing him to go to Raven’s workshop. Octavia and Lincoln hadn’t been hard to find, both having just returned from a hunt. Bellamy on the other hand proved more difficult. She searched the grounds for him, asking around to see if anyone had seen him only to be answered with blank stares. She walked outside the village bounds, wondering if he had gone to the nearby stream to bathe or get some water. She found him about a half mile out, standing in the middle of a slightly elevated clearing and walked up behind him slowly, not wanting to scare him.

“Bellamy, hey I’ve been looking for you…” Bellamy made no move to suggest he had heard her. She stepped closer, peering around his figure to see what he was staring at. There was a crudely made wooden cross above a small patch of raised dirt in front of him. Clarke waited for Bellamy to indicate he had registered her presence, but he stood still as a statue. Clarke cleared her throat.

“What’s this?” She saw Bellamy take a breath before answering.

“Echo, she...I took some of the ashes from her pyre and buried them here. The grounders don’t believe in burials but I thought it’d be nice to have a place people could go to remember her.” Clarke moved a bit closer to him, her hand resting on Bellamy’s forearm.

“I’m sure she would appreciate it.” Bellamy raised his gaze and turned to look at Clarke for the first time, his eyes glassy.

“I had just started to get to know her. I was finally feeling like things were working out. I think we could have…” he trailed off, lowering his head to stare at the cross marking the grave once more. _Could have what?_ Clarke thought. _Been happy?_ If her time on the ground had taught her anything it was that the fates were never so kind. But that’s not what Bellamy--one of her closest friends--needed to hear right now. She recalled the image of Echo bleeding out on a cot and closed her eyes tightly to will the image away. 

“She loved you.” Clarke said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

“I’m not sure why...but I loved her too. I was too stupid or too scared to tell her though, not before it was too late. I felt like we had all the time in the world, with Mount Weather gone…” Clarke watched a tear make its way down Bellamy’s cheek. He reached up to wipe it with the back of his hand. 

Clarke found herself at a loss for words. The truth was it probably had been too little too late. Their lives on the ground were a race against a clock that was always against them, and they simply didn’t have the luxury of taking their time in anything really, especially not love, not when... _”It was very, very dangerous to live even one day.”_ The line popped into Clarke’s mind, one of those random quotes from the “classic” books her father had insisted on reading to her before bed, even long after she should have outgrown the custom. She grimaced. The author really had no idea, writing that in a time before the world ended. What was left wasn’t the world that author wrote about, it was something else entirely...wasn’t it?

“It never feels like enough,” Clarke found herself saying, unsure of where the words had come from. “But at least you had something. And now she’s part of you.” It felt so hollow in her ears, but to her surprise Bellamy reached over to place his hand over hers.

“Yeah…Sometimes I forget that this,” he gestured with his head vaguely to the landscape, “all of this has to be worth something. Even if it’s just a fleeting connection.” He let out a half chuckle, half sigh.

“More than just surviving,” Clarke said, barely above a whisper, her eyes frozen on the ground in front of her. For some reason, that damn kiss she had shared with Lexa kept replaying in her mind. She could almost feel how soft and pliant her lips had been against her own. It made her chest constrict. She wanted it to stop. She could feel Bellamy eyeing her at her side. 

“So is that what you and Ronan are?” Clarke turned to face him, finding his mouth turned slightly upward in a smirk.

“I…no, I don’t think so.” Bellamy raised an eyebrow.

“Then what?” He was pushing her, maybe teasing her, Clarke wasn’t sure. She let out a sigh. She couldn’t tell him who she was really thinking of in that moment, but he did deserve some form of honesty given that he’d been so uncharacteristically vulnerable with her.

“Ronan is a nice guy.”

“Ouch,” Bellamy interrupted with a grin. Clarke shoved him a bit in response.

“He’s just...I don’t know, more of a distraction.” Bellamy’s face grew more serious as he nodded.

“Yeah, I understand. After everything we’ve done, it’s good to have distractions.” Clarke considered his words. Up until now she hadn’t really thought or wanted to think about what was going on with her and Ronan. From the beginning it was understood that it had been a distraction, some way for her to “feel” something again...but a distraction from what exactly? She felt a familiar pang in her chest.

“But you know, you deserve a shot at happiness too Clarke. Don’t be afraid to let yourself care.” He paused. “It’s like you said: It’s never enough, but it is something.” 

Of course it wasn’t that easy. Not too long ago Clarke had convinced herself she didn’t even deserve to live after the things she’d done. How was she to believe she deserved happiness, assuming such a thing was even possible? (she knew it wasn’t of course, definitely not with Lexa--those waters had been too poisoned. Still this feeling remained, tight and gnawing in her chest…) But, Clark thought sullenly, what people “deserve” has little weight on what actually happens to them. And that was the most terrifying truth she had learned in her time on this godforsaken rock. But maybe that’s how it had always been, even before...history had proven that greed, murder, and violence ruled human nature and in the end it wasn’t the good people who had been spared, but the rich, the powerful, the cunning, or, in the case of the grounders, the biologically adept--it was simply brute, dumb luck that guided humanity’s future, not some moral sense of right or cosmic justice. Still the question remained: How to live in the face of that? Another quote, this time from a different book her father had read to her once, sprang unbidden to her thoughts. _"When I fall into the abyss, I go straight into it, head down and heels up...”_ She looked up to see Bellamy staring at her with concern. She forced herself to smile.

“Yeah.” 

…

Twenty minutes later, Clarke had just finished explaining her plan to the blank faces standing around Raven’s workbench--the faces of her closest friends. 

“So you’re saying you want us to ignore Lexa’s orders, slip undetected into one of the most heavily guarded cities on earth, somehow find a secret underground research facility inside said city, and then stumble across something--though we’re not sure what exactly--that the Kikon Trikova wants so we can keep her from making synthetic life forms that will replace humans?” Octavia paused. “Oh and all because some crazy old lady told you she had a vision of the end of the world?”

Clarke held Octavia’s gaze.

“Well...yes.” The room was silent for a moment. Octavia’s face, up till now impassive broke into a grin.

“When do we leave?” Clarke returned her smile. Her and Octavia had come a long way since their last war. Something about having Camp Jaha destroyed and the majority of their people killed made any bitterness between them all but melt away. Bellamy’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m in. Any ideas how we’re gonna sneak into the Ice Nation capital though?”

Before Clarke could respond, a horn sounded outside.

“That’s the Commander’s horn. She must be announcing her plans to protect the village,” Lincoln said thoughtfully. They all shuffled outside to find a growing mass of people surrounding a platform where Lexa, Indra, and Sín stood patiently. Before long, Lexa began to speak. She spoke in English rather than Trigedasleng, likely for the sake of the Arkers.

“All of us--Sky People and Grounder alike--have suffered much at the hands of this new enemy. All of us have seen what she is capable of. This is not a war for territory, for vengeance, or for honor--this is a war for our very survival. Not just the survival of one clan, but the survival of our species. In light of that, we must put aside any lingering differences and unite--grounder and sky person, Trikru and Azgeda--we must fight as one because we are fighting to protect the life that is common to all of us.” Lexa paused. “Raven of the Sky People has uncovered information regarding the Kikon Trikova’s next attack.” Clarke could feel Raven stiffen beside her, surprised at Lexa’s public recognition. “It is a small, Azgeda village in the north, a three days march from here. Unfortunately, we don’t have three days--she is set to strike the village in two days. For that reason I am sending a vanguard on horseback to meet the first wave of mechs.” The crowd was suddenly deathly silent. While Clarke didn’t know much about military strategy, she did know a vanguard was traditionally sacrificed, expected to die in battle. She watched Lexa’s face harden.

“I will lead the vanguard--and I will take only volunteers.” Again, Lexa was met with complete silence, this one more palpable than the last. She continued. “I have already sent word to the capitals of all twelve clans, including Polis. Those who can will join to help us. But now I am asking for your help.” Lexa’s eyes scanned the crowd. It dawned on Clarke that this--Lexa divulging battle plans and asking rather than demanding her warriors’ service--was not just unusual but downright novel, if the bewildered faces surrounding her was any evidence. 

“I will not lie to you,” she began again, eyes looking past the crowd rather than at it, “this mission will be dangerous, perhaps lethal. One of the elders on the council of seers has confirmed as much. But the alternative would lead to the extinction of our people, our way of life…” There was a slight murmur in the crowd as all eyes looked to Sín. 

“I am not asking you to risk your lives for me, I am asking you to risk them with me, for our future.” There was another pause as Lexa’s eyes scanned the crowd once more. 

“Those who wish to join me--please come forward.” No one moved. The silence felt thick enough to cut through. Suddenly, movement in the back caused the crowd to part, letting through the lone volunteer. Clarke strained her neck to see who it was.

“I will go, Heda.” It was unmistakably Ronan’s voice. Sure enough she saw him come forward to stand before Lexa, bowing slightly. Though her face remained stoic, Clarke could tell Lexa hasn’t expected Ronan to come forward. Neither had Clarke. There was more rustling in the crowd as others came forward to join him. Soon there was a good sized group of almost forty grounders.

Clarke felt movement at her side and turned to see Bellamy take a step forward. Clarke reached out to grab his arm.

“Bellamy, what are you doing?”

“They could use a gunman,” he said, refusing to face her.

“I could use one too.” Bellamy stood still, not turning to meet Clarke’s eyes.

“Clarke, I need to do this. It’s what Echo would have wanted.” Before Clarke could respond he shook off her hand and stepped forward, the last volunteer and the only Sky Person to join the group at the front. Lexa eyed him curiously for a minute before nodding her gratitude. She addressed the volunteers once more. 

“Pack your bags. We leave at dawn.” And with that she turned and walked off the podium, presumably toward her tent, leaving Indra to dole out duties. Clarke felt a sudden surge of anger overcome her, though she couldn’t exactly say why. She clenched her teeth and made for Lexa’s tent. She wouldn’t get away that easy.

…

Upon entering her tent, Lexa let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Asking rather than ordering her people to fight was new to her, and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been nervous at the prospect. Still, the reaction hadn’t been entirely unwelcome--she had more than enough men to lead the assault. Ronan of all people was the first to volunteer. Lexa felt an anxious sense of guilt in the pit of her stomach, remembering her earlier plans to have him assigned to the vanguard. And Bellamy had volunteered as well...she’d been jealous of him once too. Now the three of them were all very likely going to die together. Lexa grit her teeth at the irony. 

She was so lost in thought, she hadn’t heard Clarke open the flap to her tent.

“What the hell was that?” Lexa didn’t even bother to turn around. She could recognize Clarke’s voice a mile away--and her voice sounded very angry.

“What was what Clarke?” she asked, eyeing the plate of food on her table she had yet to touch. 

"Did you put him up to it?" Lexa grimaced. Clarke still thought her a savage, capable of...She willed her voice to remain calm, collected.

"Why would I do that?" 

"You know why."

"Don't flatter yourself. Ronan volunteered Clarke," Lexa said coldly.

“Since when does the Commander of the Twelve Clans ask for volunteers?” She could feel Clarke inching her way closer. She closed her eyes.

“Since the mission will likely cost her warriors their lives.”

“Oh please, like that’s stopped you before. ‘We must look into the eyes of our warriors and say ‘go and die for me,’ remember that little speech?” Clarke mocked. Lexa seemed to tense.

“That was...a different time.”

“Bullshit. What the hell is going on with you? First you risk your life to capture one of the mechs. Now you’re risking your entire army to protect one village, not to mention taking volunteers to lead a vanguard personally? I don't even recognize you. You’re sure as hell not the same Commander who let that missile fall on TonDC…” _And left me and my people to die at Mount Weather._ Clarke didn’t have to speak the words out loud for Lexa to know they were what she was thinking.

Lexa said nothing, her back still facing Clarke. She merely bowed her head slightly while her arms gripped the edge of the table in front of her.

“Damnit Lexa! I deserve an answer,” Clarke all but screamed, her hand reaching out to grasp Lexa’s arm, spinning her around to face her. When Lexa does, her eyes are fixed steadily on Clarke’s hand, still grasping her arm tightly. Clarke lets go, but Lexa’s face is blank, not angry. She continues to stare at the spot Clarke’s hand had been.

“It wasn’t worth it.” Lexa says the words so softly, Clarke almost misses them.

“What? What wasn’t worth it?” Clarke felt her anger give way, melting in the face of this version of Lexa who couldn’t even look her in the eye. Lexa didn’t respond for a while, she just kept her eyes trained on the same spot. Finally she looked up to meet Clarke’s gaze.

“Everything I did, everything, everyone I sacrificed--in the end it didn’t matter.” Clarke furrowed her brows in confusion. Lexa sighed. 

“Most of your people are dead, Clarke. Mine are dying. If this new threat doesn’t kill us, another will, or we’ll kill each other…” Clarke swallowed. She’d never heard the Commander this dejected. It was unnerving, to say the least. Lexa closed her eyes.

“I let the Ice Queen torture and kill Costia. I betrayed you and left you to die by the Mountain Men’s hands. I allowed the Kikon Trikova to take my Mother and turn her into a, a…” Clarke had never heard Lexa stutter before and it made something inside her shrink. She had always seemed so sure in her words. 

“And for what? To die fighting an endless war.” Clarke reached out to place her hand on Lexa’s arm again, this time gently. Lexa opened her eyes suddenly, surprised at the foreign touch, and looked up to meet Clarke’s gaze.

“I’m just so tired.” With those words Clarke could finally see just how young Lexa was. How fast she was forced to grow up. How much she had suffered. How, in another life--one where people’s fates were decided by what they deserved, and no one would be forced to end a life they didn’t want to--in that world, Lexa would have been so strong and so beautiful and so happy. And her heart ached for her. She wasn’t sure why she did it--in the moment she didn’t seem to have a conscious thought, let alone a reason for doing it--but Clarke reached forward and brought her lips to meet Lexa’s. 

The kiss began gently, like the first one only this time it was Clarke who initiated. It took Lexa a moment to recover from the shock and respond in kind. When she did, she pressed her lips back against Clarke’s mouth tentatively, as if she were afraid Clarke would break the kiss if she was too forceful. Clarke responded by deepening it, pushing back almost desperately and reaching up to grab the back of Lexa’s neck. Lexa simultaneously felt the back of her thighs hit the edge of her table and the sensation of Clarke’s tongue seeking access to her mouth. She parted her lips and reached down to grasp at the material of Clarke’s shirt, hearing Clarke let out a breathy moan as their tongues met. The kiss grew more heated as Clarke backed Lexa further against the table so their bodies were almost flush against each other. Lexa let out a soft gasp. It had been unintentional, but it was enough to snap her out of her dream-like state. The hands clutching at Clarke’s hips pushed her away slowly as Lexa tried to even her breathing, but she didn’t entirely let go.

“Clarke…” She took in the sight of Clarke’s face, pupils wide and lips swollen, and she swallowed nervously. Clarke looked as shocked as she felt.

“I...I’m sorry” Clarke breathed, her eyes still fixed on Lexa’s parted lips.

“I leave with the vanguard tomorrow,” Lexa said. Clarke’s eyes widened for a moment at Lexa’s words--they didn’t need further explanation. Lexa was most likely riding to her death come morning. Clarke suddenly realized why she had been so angry. She stepped back, outside of Lexa’s reach. A million things she could say swirled in her thoughts. Instead, she chose the simplest.

“May we meet again.” And she turned to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY right? Or maybe too soon depending on how you're reading the story. Still, Clexa's got a long way to go in this one...
> 
> If this chapter was any indication, I'm trying to slow things down a bit. I wanted to really build up to the kiss, and try and show both Clarke and Lexa's shared vulnerability. I also know Lexa probably seemed a bit out of character here, but I was kind of aiming for that. I imagine after seeing her mom hooked up to the mech and bottling up those feelings, she's kind of on the edge of giving up entirely. The two literary quotes that Clarke remembers in her conversation with Bellamy are from Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway and Dostoevsky's Brothers K (both excellent novels dealing with themes of violence, trauma, how to live in the face of suffering, etc.). Again, hope my nerdy references aren't too off-putting.
> 
> Sorry for the long delay and the relative brevity of the chapter. It will probably be another week or two till the next update. But I really do have most of it mapped out, so it will eventually be finished. I figure we're about halfway?


End file.
